Flowers From Death
by HotchRocks
Summary: A serial killer is recreating the murder of the Black Dahlia with each murder. The BAU is called in to help with the investigation. But what neither the team or the police are aware of, is that the killer wants the BAU involved. The investigation becomes personal and time of the essence when Hotch vanishes during the investigation.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own Criminal Minds or it's characters. They are the property of The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios, and CBS Paramount Network Television. I only own the DVDs. This is a sequel to my story Mistaken Identities. The OC of Jason Armitage was first introduced in that story. He and all other OCs are mine. This story is based on the Black Dahlia murder. **

**Chapter 1**

Carrie Linton walked her terrier puppy in the woods several blocks from her home. She and her siblings had pestered their parents for a dog for two years before their parents presented them with the puppy last Christmas. The children agreed to take turns walking the puppy and today was her turn. Suddenly the little pup's body stiffened and then strained on his leash nearly yanking it out of Carrie's hand.

"Cut it out, Sasha," the girl hollered. "Quit pulling on the leash!" But the pup, attracted to something further ahead, continued to pull on the leash. With a frenzied bark, the little dog bolted, yanking the leash from Carrie's hand, and took off into the woods. "Sasha, come back! Sasha!" Carrie ran after the dog which got further and further ahead of her. She knew her parents would be upset if she returned home having lost the family pet.

Suddenly she stopped when she spotted the pup sniffing and pawing at something white just ahead. It looked to her, like somebody lying on the ground. Carrie took a few tentative steps and stopped again. She found herself puzzled by how waxy and white the form was-similar to a sheet of white paper. Probably a dummy she thought to herself, or a store mannequin. The bottom half of the dummy was undressed.

"Sasha, come here, girl," Carrie begged slapping her palms against the front of her thighs. But the dog continued her sniffing and pawing ignoring her mistress. Carrie took another tentative step and paused again. A feeling of fear began to permeate her entire body for an unexplained reason.

The legs and a section of a hip appeared to be disconnected from the mannequin's waist. The top of the torso lay close to the bottom section, both sides facing upwards. The arms raised above the head, and what looked like dark red covered one side of the chest, and the eyes open and lifeless. The buzzing of flies could be heard as they swarmed noisily over the form in the thin grass.

When the realization struck her, Carrie screamed, turned, and ran away as fast as she could back home. When she reached her house, the teenager pushed open the front door screaming for her mother. Her mother, being in the kitchen, and her father, being in the upstairs bedroom, both appeared at the same time hearing their daughter's screams.

"Carrie, what is it?" her panicked mother asked pulling her daughter close. The trembling girl clung to her mother as she sobbed. Her father put a hand on his daughter's back, eyes frightened.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" he asked. "Did somebody do something to you? Are you hurt?"

With her face buried in her mother's chest, the girl shook her head.

Robert Linton then noticed the puppy his daughter had left the house with was nowhere to be seen. "Carrie, did somebody take Sasha?" Again the girl shook her head. "Then what happened?"

As she gathered herself, the child pulled back from her mother to face both parents. She told them what she'd seen in the woods. After hearing the story, Maggie Linton looked at her husband.

"It's probably just a department store mannequin that fell out of somebody's truck and broke. I'll take a look. I'll also bring Sasha back if she's still there." Robert said as he walked out the front door.

Robert hurried through the woods, and shouted the dog's name repeatedly. Finally, after several minutes, he heard barking as the puppy bounded into sight wagging its tail excitedly.

"C'here, girl. C'mon." The pup hesitated, then turned and ran away in the direction from which it had come. He chased after her finally catching up with her standing beside the form his daughter described. The dog ran up to him and allowed him to pick her up and tuck her under his arm, still staring at the form. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened in horror. He fought to keep the bile from rising in his throat, turned, and ran from the sight knowing he must call the police.

Within minutes, several police cruisers arrived at the scene. One of the young officers, after seeing the body, hurried away, dropped to his knees, and emptied his stomach of it's contents. He had not seen a body until now, and one in this condition, caused the bile to rise. He looked around when he felt a hand on his shoulder. An older uniformed officer looked at him in sympathy.

"You all right, Mike?" the older officer asked. His name tag read Sgt. P. Martens. Tears had formed in the younger man's eyes.

"Jesus, Pete," he stammered. "Somebody cut that girl right in half! How could somebody do that to another human being?"

Martens let out a deep breath. Even a seasoned veteran like himself had to struggle to keep from being sick at the cruelty done to the victim. He patted the younger officer on the back and returned to the crime scene, careful not to disturb the immediate area itself. He viewed the dead girl's slashed face and breasts. One had been nearly removed. Gouges made by a knife were on her right thigh. Her abdomen had been ripped open, the internal organs removed, and tossed aside like trash. Her legs had been spread wide apart, and her arms raised above her shoulders. Her smooth cheeks had been sliced open from the corners of her lips to the lobes of her ears. The Sergeant shook his head.

"What did you do to make somebody this angry at you?" he asked nobody while looking at the body. He guessed the victim had to be between seventeen and twenty years-of-age. There were deep bruises from a severe beating as well as rope burns on her wrists, neck and both ankles. Her damp hair was a honey-blond color with red which he determined not to be blood. In fact, there was no coagulated blood anywhere around the wounds on the body nor around the body itself. There wasn't even any blood between the two halves. But what was beneath the body couldn't be determined until the detectives arrived, and the body removed by the coroner.

Detective Frank Parsons arrived and right away ordered several uniformed officers to keep everyone away from the crime scene. His green eyes took in the gathering crowd all straining their necks to get a look at the gruesome sight. It sickened him when crowds gathered at crime scenes. It became a circus to them. He informed Martens the lab crew, the coroner, and two other detectives were on their way. He turned his attention back to the body. He crouched beside it and examined it carefully.

From the ligature marks on her neck, he suspected the cause of death to be strangulation with either a rope, a cord, or even a wire, not manual. But as with the other body two weeks ago, he couldn't tell how much had been done while still alive because of the body having been cleaned. Parsons wondered from the ligature marks on her ankles, if she had been hung upside down like a side of beef. Hung to allow the blood to drain out of the body. Her body had been either soaked or washed so whatever evidence had been removed leaving little, if anything, to help in their investigation. He could tell this body, as the other two weeks ago, had been drained entirely of blood. With the body naked, and from its positioning, he speculated the victim had been raped.

Officer Martens crouched on the opposite side of the body. "Think it's our friend again?" he asked glancing up at the detective grimly.

"Probably," Parsons replied with a sigh. "But we can't be sure until the coroner gets here with the crime lab. But something tells me we might have a serial killer." The two men exchanged looks as the possibility of a serial killer being on the loose, a nightmare they didn't need. But two bodies in two weeks told them their nightmare might be true.

They were soon joined by Ken Barlow, the medical examiner. Parsons and Martens stood up and shook hands with the ME.

"Looks like someone spent a lot of time with this one," Barlow remarked seeing the victim. "The victim two weeks ago wasn't cut up as badly as this one."

The morning sun just started to break through the morning overcast sky as the ME crouched beside the body.

"How long do you think she's been dead?" Parsons asked.

"Keep in mind I can't be sure at this point. But if I had to speculate, I'd say maybe nine, ten hours." He proceeded to gather fragments from the skin hoping they might offer something. He told Parsons and Martens that it appeared Parsons might be right when he stated the girl's hair had been washed or shampooed after she had been killed. "I'd say most of her wounds were inflicted after her death. I'll hopefully know more after an autopsy."

Detectives and uniformed officers continued to comb the scene looking for evidence. The attendants with the coroner's office, placed the sections of the body on a stretcher, and loaded it into the back of the vehicle for transport. All which remained afterward was damp and bent blades of grass and depressions from where the body parts had laid. Something else, crushed, had been hidden under the lower part of the body.

Parsons put on a pair of latex gloves and removed a plastic bag. He picked up the item and examined it closely. A crushed pink flower he recognized as a Dahlia, had been concealed under the body. He sighed. He had seen the same flower but in white at the crime scene of a young man two weeks earlier. He looked up at Martens.

"There's no doubt anymore, Pete," he said. "We have a serial killer on our hands."

* * *

Hours later, Parsons looked through a glass-portioned area next to the examination room. The fingerprints had been sent over two hours ago, and he hoped she had a record of some kind so they could know the identity of their victim. He continued to watch as the ME's assistants went about working on the two body sections aligned on the steel table awaiting the taking of photographs. But first, a bit of work had to be done on her. The lacerations to her face were being stitched closed so her jaw could be aligned. Then a sketch of what the victim might look like needed to be done. Her face was so bruised and swollen, normal identification would be difficult without a likeness of their Jane Doe.

Parsons was about to leave the area when his cell phone vibrated. Reaching in his inner jacket pocket, he saw who was calling and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Parsons. What have you got for me, Ken?" He asked hoping he would finally know the name of their dead girl. A slow smile crossed his face. "That was quick. Thanks." He disconnected the call and tucked the phone back in his inner pocket. At last, their Jane Doe had a name.

Jane Doe's fingerprints were on file from a government job with the Recreation and Parks Department located in Alameda, California. In fact, she had recently applied for a job there, been hired, and was to start work the following Monday. She was white, five feet six inches tall, weighed one hundred twenty-five pounds, had honey-blond hair and blue-grey eyes. She had been born in Hillside, New Jersey on January 24, 1987 meaning she was nineteen at the time of her death. Her name was Shannon Carstairs with no middle name. And unless they got lucky this time, they would be no closer to finding the killer. The detective realized he needed help if he would be able to catch this sadist before he or she killed again.

With a weary sigh, Parsons grabbed his cell phone again from his pocket. He dialed a phone number and waited until somebody picked up on the other end.

"This is Detective Parsons; Santa Barbara police. I need to speak with Agent Jennifer Jareau in the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia."

* * *

Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner lay his pen on his desk and leaned back in his plush chair. He ran both hands over his face then rested his arms on the arms of his chair, looking up at the ceiling. The words on the report in front of him was starting to run together and he needed a break. His dark eyes shifted to his in-box at the stack of folders still awaiting his review and sighed. Hotch got up, grabbed his coffee cup, and left his office for the break room for a refill.

Reaching the break room, he saw Emily Prentiss pouring herself a cup of coffee as well. Hotch smiled when he entered the room. She returned his smile and wished he'd do it more often. He had a nice smile and his dimples showed when he did. In her opinion, her boss was always too stoic and serious-looking.

"Coffee?" she asked with a shake of her head, holding the glass coffee pot in her hand.

"Please," he replied. He was silent as she filled his cup. "How many cups does that make for you?" he asked eying her cup with a raised eyebrow.

"I lost count after my second," Prentiss said moving a strand of her raven-hair behind her ear. "How about you?"

"The same. I stopped counting after three." He took a sip of his coffee. "I've got a feeling it's going to be one of those days with all the paperwork we have."

"Um. Tell me about it," Prentiss agreed taking a drink of her own coffee. Her dark eyes shifted past Hotch. Seeing the shift, Hotch turned as well to see what had caught her attention. Their blond, blue-eyed media liaison, JJ, approached them, a folder in her hand.

"Glad I found you guys," the blond remarked. "We just got a new case and it looks bad."

Minutes later, JJ handed out copies of the file to Hotch, Prentiss, Morgan, Rossi and Reid before she sat between Morgan and Rossi. Picking up the remote, she activated the viewing screen behind her and the photo of a handsome young man appeared.

"This is Anthony Barstow, age 22. His body was found two weeks ago in the woods behind a residence in Santa Barbara, California. His body was cut in half at the waist. Also, all the blood had been drained from his body." From the corner of her eye, she saw the others wince at the photo.

"Looks like somebody really did a number on this guy," Prentiss remarked looking at the open file in front of her. "Check out the bruises and ligature marks on his throat, wrists and ankles. Looks like the vic was tied down and strangled after he was beaten."

"Yeah," Rossi agreed. He had seen many things, but nothing like this. "Looks personal."

"Look at how the body was dissected at the waist," Morgan leaned back in his chair. "That took surgical precision."

"The police weren't sure if the victim was randomly selected or targeted," JJ continued. "In fact, they still aren't. But the COD was blunt force trauma to the head from the beating he took. The ligature marks and cuts on the body were done postmortem."

"That's a lot of anger displayed by our Unsub," Hotch commented.

The victim was left stark naked," Spencer Reid twirled a pencil back and forth in front of his face. "Was there any sign of sexual abuse?"

"None." JJ pressed the remote again and a close up of a crushed white flower appeared on the screen. "This was found beneath the body."

"A flower?" asked Derek Morgan with arched eyebrows. "What kind of…."

"It's a Dahlia," Reid said. "They come in many colors and are native to Mexico, and were declared the national flower of Mexico since 1963." He griped his pencil in both hands. "The fact that it's white could be symbolic in that the victim was a male as opposed to female."

"What I still don't understand," said Prentiss. "Is why are they calling us as there's only one victim?"

JJ pressed the remote again and a photo of a pretty girl with honey-blond hair and blue-grey eyes appeared. "This is Shannon Carstairs, age 19. She was found earlier today in the woods by a fifteen-year-old girl chasing after her dog who got away during a morning walk." She pressed the remote again.

There was silence among the agents as they saw the same cuts, bruises and ligature marks on the girl's body as on the earlier victim.

JJ pointed out there had been no sexual abuse with this victim either. "And then there was this," she added changing photos. It was a photo of a crushed pink Dahlia.

"A pink flower this time," Morgan commented with a look at Reid. "Don't even say it, Reid. I assume it's pink because the victim is female, right?"

Reid shrugged. "Well, I wasn't go to say anything since it's fairly obvious."

Prentiss chuckled and just shook her head at the young genius. "Looks like we're going to Santa Barbara, California."

Hotch tore his eyes away from the screen to gather up the contents of the folder in front of him. He got to his feet. "Wheels up in thirty," he announced.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"_The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is a duty of the living to do so for them" - Lois McMaster Bujold._

When the team was on the jet, they began to review what they knew so far. An open laptop sat between the agents with the FBI logo on the screen. Penelope Garcia was back in Quantico running backgrounds on both victims to see if they ever crossed paths. This was so the team will have a starting point when they reached their destination. The agents shook their heads while looking at the grim information on the two victims.

Prentiss exhaled and shook her head. "Considering everything we've seen, Unsubs still find a new way to surprise me with their depravity."

"Might be why we'll never be outta work," Rossi commented studying the file, not looking at the brunet.

The agents grinned at Rossi's observation before they turned back to their grim task.

"Y'know, Morgan may have had a point before," Reid said. The others looked at him. "When he said the way the bodies were dissected shows surgical precision. We could be looking for someone with surgical capability."

"I'll have Garcia check for former coroners and surgeons who have been fired, or med students who have been expelled," Hotch said. "Garcia?"

The FBI logo was replaced by the smiling face of Penelope Garcia with her blond hair and pink highlights. She wore red-framed eyeglasses and a bright yellow dress with red roses. "You summoned me, mon Capitan?" she asked Hotch in a cheery voice.

Hotch smiled. No matter how dark things got, the Unit Chief always knew they can depend on Garcia. She was a ray of sunshine for them. "Garcia, after you finish running background checks on the victims, I need you to check on coroners, medical students, and surgeons. Pay special attention to any who may have been terminated or expelled no matter what the reason. And check to see if either of our victims crossed paths with any of the names you find."

"And Garcia…" Reid added. "Cross-reference that with anybody in the medical profession who may have been reprimanded or received write-ups."

"Like Superman, I will have the info faster than a speeding bullet. Garcia out." Garcia's face was replaced by the FBI logo.

"The two victims were found two weeks apart," JJ said. "Why the fourteen day interval between victims?"

"Maybe our Unsub uses the time to select his victim," Rossi replied. "Could be he watches them to understand their habits before he attacks. That would take time."

"But both victims are found in the same woods, one behind a residence, the other near a residence," Prentiss explained. "Why? Is there some significance to these woods?"

"Might be a place he's familiar with," Morgan said. "Also, as there's no blood, he's obviously using it as a dumping sight."

"All it means is he's killing them someplace else before dumping the bodies in these woods," Hotch added rubbing his chin in thought. "Normally, disposing of a human body is not easy as we know because of the dead weight."

"Yeah, but since the bodies are cut in half at the waist…" Prentiss continued. "I would think it would be easier to transport a body that's in two parts than in one."

"So we're looking for somebody who's familiar with the area," began Hotch. "And who can come and go without attracting attention."

"And probably lives in the area as well," JJ added.

"And since he took two weeks between the first and second victims," Rossi interrupted. "Means we have a small window before he takes another victim to stop him." His words caused the others to exchange looks.

When they landed, they were directed towards the vehicles they will be using while in Santa Barbara.

"Detective Parsons," the man greeted them, offering his hand to Hotch. He guessed this was the leader. "You must be Agent Hotchner."

"I am," Hotch said, shaking hands with the detective. "Let me introduce my team. This is SSA David Morgan. SSA Emily Prentiss. SSA Derek Morgan. Our media liaison Jennifer Jareau. And Doctor Spencer Reid." Parsons shook hands with each except for Reid who gave an awkward wave.

"Where would you like to start?" Parsons asked, his eyes lingering on the two female agents. It didn't go unnoticed by the others.

"Agents Jareau and Prentiss will talk to the families of both victims, and afterward to the Linton family as their daughter found the second body," Hotch said.

"I spoke with them," Parsons explained. "They're expecting you."

"Good. Dr. Reid and Agent Morgan will visit the first crime scene, and Agent Rossi and myself will first visit the second crime scene, and then see the medical examiner."

"What do you want me to do?" asked Parsons.

"You could take Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid to the first crime scene."

Parsons looked at the agents for a few seconds before nodding and heading to his own car.

Morgan's head shake did not go unnoticed by Hotch. Nor did the amused grin on his face. He suspected the black agent's eyes were laughing as well behind his sunglasses.

"What?" Hotch asked looking at his team with a curious expression.

"Nothing, Hotch," Morgan chuckled as he and Reid started toward their own SUV. "Nothing at all."

Rossi smirked. "I think you intimidated the lead detective." Hotch looked at his close friend of more than twenty years with an innocent expression.

"I did? I certainly didn't mean to."

"Sure you didn't," Prentiss and JJ both chuckled along with Hotch and Rossi as they went to their respective SUVs. Hotch permitted one of his rare smiles which allowed his dimples to show as he slid behind the wheel of his vehicle.

* * *

He sat in his plush chair with a glass of Scotch in one hand, staring out at the woods through his open living room window. He had not been paying close attention to the audio from the television in the living-room. A Cheshire cat grin appeared on his face. It had been a perfect three week period. Perfect as he had killed two people in the most heinous way possible. And his intended prey now within his reach. As the man himself, he must stay focused and patient. He cannot get careless.

He thought back to the five attorneys he killed years ago. Their deaths had been so easy. He had planned everything right. Each death had brought him more pleasure than the following one. By the time he captured the main target of his revenge, he felt excited. He will defeat this man. Last memory as the house burned, was the man had no way out. It was unfortunate he had to leave after setting the house on fire, but couldn't risk staying. Twenty-four hours later, he read of the man's escape from the inferno, and cursed his misfortune.

He wondered if the man had changed any since their last meeting ten years ago. His grin grew into a full smile as he took a sip of his drink. The memories still remained of the man begging with his eyes, moments before the fire. He remembered watching the house burn from his hiding place. Recalling how content wondering if the man will die from smoke or flames. Hoping the smoke will not claim the man because he liked imagining him screaming when the flames touched his skin and began to roast him alive. Delight imagining the man being burned alive, and disappointed not to be able to capture the moment on video. What pleasure it would have been.

His death will be his greatest victory. A victory to be savored and cherished until his dying day. He was positive he would not have killed anyone else after the man died, as he will have nothing to prove. To have won over the best and the brightest. How much higher could he aim after that?

He swirled the amber liquid around in his glass. The man's friends are stupid. After the videos he had sent, and kidnapping the man while two of the man's friends sat outside the woman's home. After the letters, phone calls, and videos they caught him because of a mistake. If it hadn't been for that mistake, the man would have been dead and buried. And he would have been satisfied.

He recalled two of the man's friends enter the burning house, hurrying back outside with the man after the house became involved. Knowing he couldn't risk staying around any longer, he made his getaway not knowing if the man lived or died after being brought out of the house. He checked the newspapers each day, reading from front to back, looking for articles on the man. Imagine his horror to discover the man survived and recovered. There had been a photo. His face had been repaired from the disfigurement he inflicted. Knowing photos can be altered, he turned on the news on the television several weeks later. He paid attention to a press conference held by one of the man's female friends. A beautiful blond. And then he saw him. He leaned closer to the television. The man appeared tired and older, but it was him. He ground his lower jaw in anger.

_I will not let you beat me, _he told himself. _I will see you dead yet before my own life ends._

But how is the problem. He would have to give it careful consideration and thought. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes. The end will be swift this time. Swift and painful. He will make sure this time. But the nagging question persevered. How to do it? An amused grin appeared when an idea came to him.

He will need a crime in which the man cannot refuse to become involved.

When perusing the internet one day, he recalled coming across an unsolved murder case from 1947. The murder of twenty-two year old Elizabeth Short who had been tagged the Black Dahlia by the media. It happened in post-war Los Angeles. The murder had been savage and brutal. He knew he had found the crime he wanted to recreate, the Black Dahlia murder, and include both men and women to confuse the issue. He made sure to read everything on the Black Dahlia murder until he became familiar with everything about the crime. But he needed more. He needed to understand the human body if he planned to recreate the murder.

He spent the last several years studying the human body. Afterward, he got a job working as an assistant in a small coroner's office in a small, out-of-the-way town somewhere. He paid attention when autopsies were performed, and asking questions which would not attract unwanted attention. When he felt comfortable enough, he even performed a few. He stayed with the coroner's office for several years until he felt comfortable in his work. When he moved on from there, he had gotten a job embalming bodies which didn't last more than two years. Each job had taken time, patience, and hard work, but believed it necessary. He didn't mind spending the time. In the end, he knew the result will be worth the time and effort to recreate the unsolved murder.

When ready, he decided to come to California as the original crime happened in the state. It will be perfect. Next is where to take his victims. It had taken months to find the right place, and to fix up the room to keep the screams from being heard. When everything was set, a contented smile appeared. The only thing he needed now is a victim. It is important to confuse local law enforcement first. After all, they will contact the man and ask him to come. But he needed practice. And for practice, he needed victims. Where to find the right victim?

Needing a break, he drove into town and looked around until he found a man who will be perfect. His name was Anthony Barstow and he worked at the local bookstore in town. After watching his intended for a week, he discovered everything he needed to know including the man's age. It took no trouble getting the young man to his place. He hummed a tune as he cut into the body, the young man screaming in agony with each slice. He found it more fun if the victims are alive when butchered. Their screaming told him how he is doing. But he subjected the bodies to the most heinous injuries after death. When he finished, disposing of a body cut in half didn't turn out to be as difficult as he thought it might be. Finally, before disposing of the body, he went back into town to the florist shop, and bought a white Dahlia. Cleanup took much more time, but soon he is on the prowl again. This time looking for a woman. He soon found Shannon Carstairs and two weeks after Barstow, he disposed of her after buying a pink Dahlia. But, he took his time with the woman wanting to improve on his first victim. He wanted to be perfect when the moment came.

He knew the locals couldn't handle these crimes. They will ask him to come and help. This time there can be no clue the man is his target. It is the mistake he made the first time, and would not make again. Everything must go according to plan. Nobody must learn the man is his target until his body, cut in two halves, is found in the woods. A contented smile crossed his face as he thought of the tall man with the dark hair and piercing brown eyes. Even the man will be impressed. He will get revenge on the man he hated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"I'm tellin' you, pretty boy, you can't find a place more isolated than this," said Morgan. He and Reid walked through the dump site of the first body, and found nothing. It is obvious to both agents why their Unsub had no trouble dumping Barstow's body without being seen.

"I agree," Reid was crouched down, his hazel eyes scanning the ground hoping to find something the locals might have missed or overlooked, "Other than the occasional vehicular traffic we've seen, a truck in these woods wouldn't draw any unusual attention."

"I'm the Unsub. I drive my vehicle along this road and veer off into the woods looking for a suitable dump site. I need to find some place with which I am familiar. And two, when I'm seen in these woods I do not look out of place." Morgan said as he looked at the ground.

"Which means," Reid added. "He'd be either a resident, or he doesn't stand out. People are comfortable in his presence. He isn't drawing attention to himself." Morgan stood beside Reid with hands on hips.

"If I'm Barstow, I meet the Unsub someplace in town. And because I'm comfortable around him, I don't suspect a thing until it's too late." Reid stood up and still looked around the site. "Question is, how does he lure his victims to wherever he ends up killing them?" He looked Morgan in the face.

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. "He might have offered Barstow a lift somewhere, incapacitated him, then drove him to his place and killed him. Or…or he might have been waiting to get Barstow alone, overpower him, then take him to his place." He started walking back to their vehicle with Reid behind him. "I guess we'll have to wait to see what the others find out." As Morgan slid behind the wheel of the SUV and Reid buckled himself into the passenger seat, Morgan took out his cell phone. He called Hotch and informed him they had a rough idea why their Unsub choose these woods.

"Good. I'll see both of you back at the police station," was Hotch's gruff response.

* * *

"From what we know so far, our friend paid close attention to his second victim," Rossi said looking around the scene. "And then he dumped her here as if she was trash," he added with disgust.

Hotch, crouched low examining the ground, and found nothing. "I agree," he said. "The fact that he did indicates he has a strong dislike for women, and the first vic may have been a trial run for this one." Hotch studied the impression on the ground where the body had lain. He stood up placing both hands on his hips. "There's nothing here to tell us who might have done this."

"And from what Detective Parsons says, there's no forensic evidence as to who it might be either. This guy is careful to not to leave anything behind to reveal his identity," Rossi added with a sigh.

Hotch looked at his friend. "There's nothing useful here. Let's go see what the Medical Examiner can tell us."

* * *

JJ looked around as Prentiss rang the doorbell. The two agents didn't have long to wait for the door to open. A woman with shoulder-length brown hair and eyes looked at the two women standing on the top step.

"Yes? Can I help you?" she asked, suspicion etched on her face looking from one to the other.

Prentiss and JJ held up their credentials for the woman. "I'm Agent Prentiss, and this is Agent Jareau. We're with the FBI. May we come in?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. Please come in," the woman said opening the door wider and allowed the agents to enter. "I'm Maggie Linton. Detective Parsons told us somebody from the FBI will be stopping by to talk with us. I guess this concerns the body in the woods." The last sentence more of a statement than a question.

"Thank you, and yes," JJ smiled as she followed Emily inside the house. Maggie Linton closed the door and followed the agents into the living room.

My husband and daughter are in the backyard with the boys. I will go get them. Please have a seat and make yourselves comfortable. Can I get you both something? Coffee perhaps?"

"No thank you," Prentiss replied with a slight smile as she and JJ sat on the sofa. The woman hesitated for a few seconds then disappeared into the kitchen. Now alone, JJ turned toward the raven-haired woman.

"Em, you should talk with Carrie's father while I talk with Carrie. It might be easier for her to talk if her father wasn't present."

Prentiss started to respond when they heard footsteps and both women stood. Maggie Linton entered the living room followed by her husband and a shy young girl. She introduced the two agents to her husband and daughter. Prentiss and JJ smiled at the girl trying to diffuse any nervousness. Maggie Linton turned and walked back into the kitchen.

JJ looked at the shy teen. "Hi, Carrie. I'm Jennifer and this is my friend Emily. Why don't you and I go to your room and talk?" The girl shrugged, not looking at the blond. JJ tilted her head to the side. "Y'know, I have a little boy of my own. Would you like to see a picture of him?"

"Sure," Carrie replied lifting her head. She looked into JJ's bright blue eyes. With a smile, the blond took Carrie's hand. Below, Robert Linton watched his daughter walk upstairs with the agent.

"Why is your partner taking Carrie upstairs?" he asked the raven-haired agent.

"We've found that children will often be more inclined to talk if a parent isn't in the same room," Prentiss explained. She gestured to the sofa, took a seat, and waited. Linton hesitated for a few moments before he sat beside her. He ran a hand over his hair.

"I can't believe any of this," he muttered not looking at the agent. "I mean, what person does that to somebody?"

"That's what we're trying to find out, Mr. Linton. To start with, can you tell me how you came to find the body?"

Upstairs, Jennifer followed Carrie into her bedroom. The agent smiled when she saw the room. It reminded her of her own room when she was her age. Except where JJ's walls had been covered with posters of the Beatles, Carrie had posters of Justin Bieber. She sat beside the girl on the edge of the bed.

"Before you ask me any questions, can you show me the picture of your son?" asked Carrie.

"Of course," JJ beamed removing her wallet from her inside jacket pocket. She took out her most recent color photo of Henry and handed it to the girl who studied it for a few minutes. "He looks just like you." She handed the photo back to the agent.

"You think so?" JJ asked looking at the photo. "Everybody tells me that. To me he looks like his daddy. As long as he doesn't inherit the Louisianan accent." A small smile appeared on Carrie's face as JJ replaced the photo in her wallet, and put it back in her jacket pocket. "Carrie, tell me how you discovered the body in the woods? Take your time."

"I just want to forget the entire thing."

"I know, sweetie," JJ stroked the girl's hair. "But to find out who did this, we're going to need your help. Anything you can tell me might help, no matter how small a detail."

Carrie looked at her hands in her lap, and picked at her fingernails. "It was my turn to walk Sasha."

"And Sasha is you dog?"

"She was a gift from our parents to my brothers and me."

JJ nodded. "Go on," she urged the teen.

"Everything was fine until Sasha started pulling on the leash. I figured something in the woods had caught her attention."

Downstairs, Robert Linton rubbed the back of his neck. The man appeared traumatized by everything. He forced a nervous grin on his face and looked at Prentiss. "I'm sorry. This entire thing has left me overwhelmed, y'know. I mean, I think Carrie's handling it better than I am right now."

"That's understandable," Prentiss said. "You're doing fine. Just take your time."

"Right. Uh…after I saw the body and realized it was human, I grabbed Sasha and ran back here to call the police. My God, that poor girl!"

"Did you know Shannon Carstairs or the first victim, Anthony Barstow?"

Linton shook his head. "I don't know either of them. Neither do my wife or children. I'm sorry. It's so horrible what happened."

"I know. Mr. Linton, thank you for your help. You did just fine. We'll be in touch if we have more questions." Reaching inside her jacket, Prentiss removed a card and handed it to Linton. "You can reach me at that number if you or Carrie remember anything else."

"We will. Thank you." He got to his feet along with the dark-haired woman in time to see JJ reappear. The two women said their goodbyes and left the house. Alone, the two of them exchanged their information.

"This entire thing has Mr. Linton rattled," Prentiss explained. "How's his daughter handling it?"

"The reality hasn't hit her yet," JJ answered. "I feel sorry for her when it does."

"I know. What did you find out?"

"Carrie was walking the family pet when it smelled something and bolted away. She chased after the dog and caught up with her while the dog pawed at the body. She then ran home and told her parents."

"How horrible. But that coincides with what Mr. Linton told me. He said after his daughter told him and his wife what she found, he went out to the site. He finds the body, grabs the dog, and hurries home to call the police. JJ, from what I can tell he's telling the truth. He had nothing to do with any of this."

Reaching their SUV, Prentiss opened the driver's side door and slid behind the wheel as JJ slid onto the front passenger seat. "Let's head to the police station," the dark-haired woman started the engine. "Maybe the others have come up with something." She pulled away from the curb.

* * *

The drive to the morgue was made in silence, both Hotch and Rossi lost in their own thoughts about the information they had uncovered so far. Once they arrived, the agents walked to the front desk and showed their credentials. They were then directed to the room where the Medical Examiner waited for them with the two bodies.

"Doctor Barlow? I'm Agent Hotchner, and this is Agent Rossi," said Hotchner, seeing a tall man with thick hair looking at something on a clipboard. He held out his hand.

"Agents," Barlow said shaking hands with both men. "I've been expecting you."

"Unfortunately it isn't under better circumstances," Rossi chimed in, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. "You did the autopsies on both victims?"

"Yes, I did." Barlow looked at the clipboard in his hands. "The first victim, Anthony Barstow, put up a fight against his attacker. He had deep defensive cuts on both hands, and deep slashes and gouges on his face and torso. His body was severed at the waist, and all the blood drained from his body."

"How were the cuts made?" asked Rossi. "What I mean is are they smooth? Ragged?"

"The cuts were smooth and surgical in nature. None of them were jagged from what I saw. But what I will say is that more than one knife was used."

"What kind of knives were used, doctor?"

"One was an average size knife similar to a carving knife. But I will add that a larger knife, possibly a machete, was used to cut the bodies in half at the waist."

"No signs of sexual abuse?" asked Hotch.

"None. But I might add the majority of these wounds were made after the victim was dead. The ligature marks around his neck, wrists and ankles were made postmortem as well, possibly from a rope. The COD was blunt force trauma to the head from the vicious beating he received."

"What about the second victim?"

Barlow let out a deep breath as he opened a door to the refrigerator and rolled out an aluminum slab on which lay a covered body. He pulled back the sheet covering the corpse allowing the agents to get an up-close look at the body. Rossi winced at the sight while Hotch's face remained unreadable. But the older agent knew his friend was just as appalled. Barlow picked up another clipboard while Rossi and Hotch studied the body.

"It appears he spent more time with this one than the earlier victim," he said.

"What do you mean?" asked Hotch without looking at the doctor.

"The cuts on her body are much deeper than on the first victim. The cut through her middle was done with the same skill as with the first victim. The guy has to be either a doctor or someone with medical knowledge."

Rossi leaned closer with hands on his thighs. "Can you tell how much of the damage was done to her before and after her death?"

Barlow shook his head. "Hard to tell. Her body's been so cleaned off, it's difficult to tell how much was done while she was alive, and after she died. The ligature marks on her neck, wrists and ankles appear to have been made with wire. To be honest, if it wasn't for the blunt force trauma to her head, I would have suspected the cause-of-death was either strangulation or excess blood loss."

"Any sign of rape with the second victim?" asked Hotch.

"No sign of it considering the way she was displayed at the crime scene indicated otherwise."

Hotch studied the woman's face. "I see the lacerations to her face were stitched closed."

"Yes, sir. It was the only way we could align her jaw before a sketch of what she might have looked like could be done. Believe me when I say the bastard who did this worked her over but good. I hope you find him."

"We intend to," Rossi replied. "Were there any sign of drugs in either victims' systems?"

"I didn't find any drugs in either body, but I did find something unusual."

"What do you mean by unusual?" asked Hotch, straightening.

To show what he meant, Barlow maneuvered the upper part of the girl's body turning it on its side. He moved her hair out of the way and pointed to a mark on the back of her neck. Both Hotch and Rossi leaned closer.

"Those looks like burn marks," Rossi said, eyes narrowed.

"They are," Barlow explained. "Both victims have them in the same location. If I had to venture a guess as to what caused them, I'd have to say a taser."

"That's our guess as well," Rossi concurred. "Thank you for your time, Doctor Barlow." He and Hotch said their goodbyes and left the morgue. Once back outside, they climbed into their SUV and headed to the police station.

"So what do we have?" Hotch asked. "We have an Unsub who enjoys inflicting the ultimate amount of pain on his victims. And he seemed to inflict more pain on the woman than the man."

"That tells me he has more anger against the female victim than the male. Why? And how does he select his victims?" asked Rossi.

Hotch let out a deep breath. "Hopefully we'll find out soon. What worries me is he seems to be escalating from his first victim," he said. "Two weeks between his first and second victim isn't a lot of time. He could already be searching for his next victim as we speak."

Rossi glanced at his friend's face. "What's troubling you, Aaron? You've had that look on your face since we learned about the second victim."

Hotch looked at the older man. Rossi always could read him like a book. "I'm not sure and I can't explain it. I just have a feeling things are going to get worse before they get better."

"Then let's catch this son-of-a-bitch before that happens," Rossi stated.

* * *

Morgan and Reid returned to the police station a few minutes before Prentiss and JJ. When the girls entered, Reid was at work on the geographic profile hoping to find the Unsub's comfort zone.

Thirty minutes later, Hotch and Rossi joined them.

"Morgan, Reid, what can you tell us about the first crime scene?" Hotch asked with arms crossed.

"The area where Barstow's body was found is somewhat remote," Morgan began. "Also, one needs to be familiar with or live in the area. My guess is if a vehicle left the road and headed into the woods, it wouldn't seem all that unusual."

"In addition," Reid continued looking around from the white board on which he had been working. "He blends in and doesn't draw attention to himself which causes people to be comfortable enough around him to lower their guard. We just don't know yet how he lures his victims or how he overpowers them."

"We can answer part of that," Hotch replied, his face impassive. "He uses a taser on them. There were burn marks on the back of the neck on the second victim. The Medical Examiner verified burn marks on both victims. Apparently his victims feel comfortable enough around the Unsub to let him get close enough to use the taser and immobilize them."

"Well, that answers the how he overpowers 'em," Morgan tossed out. "Now if we could figure out how he lures them."

"My guess," said Prentiss. "He either talks them into coming with him, or he waits until they're alone and overpowers them."

"The medical examiner added the cuts are smooth which indicates the killer either knew what he was doing, or had medical training," Rossi explained, arms crossed. "Also, he said two knives were used. Possibly a carving knife and a machete."

"There are no signs of a struggle at the first crime scene so Barstow might have gone with the Unsub of his own free will," Morgan added.

"Nor are there signs of a struggle at the second crime scene," Rossi concurred.

"What about Shannon Carstairs?" asked JJ moving a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Rossi shook his head and exhaled. "He spent more time with her than with his first victim. The ligature marks on her neck, wrists and ankles were from being bound with wire."

"There are no sign of drugs in the systems of either victim," Hotch added. "But why would he spend more time with the girl than with the male?"

"Could be Barstow was a practice run so to speak," Rossi explained. "By the time he moved on to Shannon Carstairs, he felt surer of himself."

"I don't think so," Reid interjected after a long period of silence. The others turned to their resident genius. "What I believe happened is that with Barstow he honed his skills as a killer. What I mean is, I don't think Barstow was his first victim. He was, as Rossi stated, a practice run for when he killed Shannon Carstairs. He spent more time with her because she was important to him."

"How so?" Hotch folded his arms.

The young agent's enthusiasm showed as he continued. "Both victims were killed in the same fashion as 22 year-old Elizabeth Short who was known as the Black Dahlia back in 1947. Her killer, who to this day, remains unknown, spent a long time with her when he killed her. She was tortured, beaten, and bound with rope. Her body had been cut in half at the waist and drained of blood. Only difference being there were no Dahlia flowers left with her body when it was found."

"Why was she called the Black Dahlia, Spence?" asked a fascinated JJ.

"The press called her that because of her jet black hair and penchant for wearing black clothing. She also had a habit of wearing white gardenias in her hair. Sort of how the late jazz singer, Billie Holiday, did."(1)

"So you're saying this Unsub is recreating the Black Dahlia murder?" asked Prentiss.

"It was the most sensational murder in 1947 and her killer never caught. I believe it could be the reason he chose it in the first place," the young man stated. "He's recreating a murder in which the killer was never found believing he can do the same thing."

"There's something I don't understand, Reid. I get it where Shannon Carstairs is concerned. She was a woman like this Elizabeth Short. But how does Anthony Barstow fit in?"

"I'm not sure yet. But if I had to make a guess, I'd say he was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Just then, the door to the conference room opened, and Detective Parsons looked in, a grim expression on his face. "Sorry to interrupt, folks," his eyes sought out Hotch. "Agent Hotchner, we've got another body. But this one wasn't found in the woods."

* * *

(1) Billie Holiday nicknamed 'Lady Day' was an American jazz singer had a thriving career for many years before losing her battle with drug addiction. Her trademark was the gardenias she wore in her hair when she performed. She died on 7/17/59 at the age of 44.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

With a shake of his head, Hotch leaned forward with both hands flat on the table in front of him.

"That's two bodies in one day," Morgan stated. "He's changed his MO from the first two killings. But why?"

"Where was the body found?" Hotch asked looking up at the detective.

Parsons removed his notebook from inside his jacket. "The deceased is Thomas Gannon, 18. Full-time junior attending Westmont College. When he didn't show up for classes today, the school tried getting in touch with him and couldn't. They then called his emergency contact which was his father who's a widower. He drove to his son's home and found the body." The detective gave Hotch the address.

Hotch sighed and looked at his teammates. Their eyes were all on him. He straightened. "Where's the father at this moment?"

"One of my detectives is escorting him here as we speak. He's so distraught and there's nobody close by who we could contact. We managed to get in touch with his sister who lives in San Francisco. She's on her way, but won't be here for a few hours yet." He sighed. "Damn shame, too. Thomas was his only child."

Hotch shook his head again. The last bit of news made him think of his own 5-year-old son, Jack. He could only imagine how he'd react. "Have somebody let us know when Gannon's father arrives," he said. "If you could give us a few minutes?"

Parsons nodded. "I'll wait outside for you." He closed the door.

"What else do we know? What about the families of both victims?" Hotch's eyes shifted to the two female agents.

"We spoke to a Jason Armbrister who lived in the house near where the first victim was found," JJ explained. "He didn't know either victim and was visiting his children in San Francisco, and returned late yesterday. His wife divorced him last year, and she got sole custody. When I asked if he could prove his whereabouts at the time of the murder, he produced a return ticket stub verifying his return from San Francisco yesterday."

"As far as the Lintons," Prentiss tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I spoke with the father while JJ spoke with the daughter." She went on to explain what Robert Linton had told her as the others listened. When she finished, JJ picked up with her conversation with the daughter. When she had finished, she shook her head. "Poor girl. Hotch, I don't think what's happened has hit her yet. And her father's already traumatized by everything."

"What about Shannon Carstairs?" asked JJ moving a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Rossi shook his head and exhaled. "He spent more time with her than with Barstow. According to the Medical Examiner, the ligature marks on her neck, wrists and ankles were from being bound with wire."

Everybody looked at their Unit Chief who tapped his pencil on the table while he thought about what he had been told.

"Aaron?" Rossi said studying the man he considered more like a son than his best friend. "Something on your mind?"

"Just wondering why our Unsub killed two people in one day. Something made him change his MO and we need to find out what." He looked at his team. "Dave, you and Morgan go with Detective Parsons to the new crime scene. JJ, talk with the police spokesperson and put together a press conference for later today. Reid, continue with the geographic profile. Prentiss, you and I will speak with Gannon's father."

Nodding their understanding of their assignments, Rossi, Morgan and JJ left the conference room leaving Hotch, Prentiss and Reid alone.

* * *

Walking through the woods behind his house, he stuck both hands in the pockets of his faded blue jeans. He chuckled as he thought back to a short while ago when they came to his home and asked questions.

He felt flattered and relieved when two women, a blond and brunette, got out of their SUV and approached his house on foot. Having been watching on the closed circuit television in the secret room, he had been cleaning up when they arrived. Removing his leather apron, he hurried upstairs to greet them, and was glad it had not been his enemy. If it had, he would not have gone upstairs. The man would recognize him right away. And that would spoil everything. But the beautiful women had no idea as to his true identity. A grin appeared as he knew later they would all remember his face and he didn't care. After he got his revenge on the man in question, he planned to disappear so far underground those stupid FBI agents would never find him.

A smirk appeared when he recalled that the two women thought he was Jason Armbrister. The fact that he fooled them so easily proved their stupidity. They never questioned his identity even though it was in the wooded area in the back of his house where Barstow's body had been found. And he had the receipt from Armbrister's return plane trip so they would drop him as a suspect. He chuckled when he realized they bought his story.

When he had been searching for the right place for his use, he had selected the home of divorcee Jason Armbrister, who lived alone. His place had been perfect. He studied and stalked Armbrister learning everything about the man, including about his ex-wife in San Francisco with the couple's children. Knowing of Armbrister's trip to visit his children, he waited until the man returned home, killed him, disposed of the body, and took his place. Knowing the man had just moved to the area from San Francisco, nobody had really gotten to know him yet which made him the perfect candidate.

But to him, the most perfect joke was while upstairs with the two agents, he had Thomas Gannon's body downstairs in the soundproof room. He had been busy draining the body of blood when the agents arrived. A chuckle escaped his lips as he thought about how the female agents had no idea their latest victim was just beneath their feet.

* * *

Hotch and Prentiss were busy going over the files in front of them about the first two murders when Hotch's cell vibrated. Reaching inside his jacket, he removed his phone, and checked who was calling. Pressing a button he lay the phone on the table in front of him. "Go ahead, Garcia. You're on speaker."

"Sorry it took me so long to get back to you, boss-man," Garcia said. "But you have no idea how many coroners and surgeons in California have been terminated or written up, sir. And how many med students have been expelled or reprimanded for one thing or another. Now remember, you didn't tell me how far to go back so…."

"Garcia…did you find anything?" Hotch asked in his 'no nonsense' voice, hoping to stop Garcia's babbling.

"Oh, yes, sorry, sir. Uh, I went back five years in my research, and there's at least one hundred surgeons who have been written up and/or terminated. And as far as med students, my liege, I have found thirty-five students who have been expelled for various reasons. So far, our victims have nothing in common with any of them. But I'm still searching."

"One hundred surgeons and thirty-five students, Garcia?" asked Reid with arched eyebrows as he turned away from the board.

"And I haven't finished my search yet, my junior G-man."

"What about our victims?" asked Prentiss. "Find anything on them?"

"But of course, my raven-haired goddess. Shannon Carstairs was to begin a job with the Recreation and Parks Department in Alameda next week. She moved to Santa Barbara from Hillside, New Jersey. Both parents are deceased. She has a twenty-one year-old brother named Justin living in Alameda."

"How'd the parents die?" asked Hotch.

"Gordon Carstairs was killed in a mugging 7 years ago while on his way home from work. The mugger was arrested a few days later trying to pawn Mr. Carstairs possessions. Barbara Carstairs died from breast cancer two years ago at the age of sixty."

"And Anthony Barstow?"

"He has been employed at Lorimar's bookstore in Santa Barbara for the past three years. He was born and raised in Santa Barbara, California, and his parents are both still alive and living in Ventura. And before you ask my handsome leader, Ventura is thirty-one minutes or 27 miles from where you are. I sent theirs and Justin's addresses to your phone."

Hotch smiled as he picked up his phone. "Good work, Garcia. And I hate to add to the hit parade…"

"Sir, you just said something funny," Garcia interrupted. She knew her boss had an extremely dry sense of humor. "And very un-Hotchlike."

"Garcia..."

"Sorry, sir. What do you need?"

"We need you to find everything you can on a Thomas Gannon."

"Is he our much sought-after slime ball, sir?"

"No. He's our third victim." Hotch paused for a few seconds. For a while, he thought the call had been disconnected. "Garcia?"

"I'm here, sir. Believe me when I tell you I will leave no stone unturned in my search for our snake in the grass."

"Good. Get back to us when you finish you search."

"Aye, aye, mon Capitan. Garcia out." The call was disconnected.

Hotch put the phone back in his inner jacket pocket when the door opened, and a young uniformed officer looked at the three agents. "Agent Hotchner? Detective Parsons said to inform you when Thomas Gannon's father arrived. He's in interview room two now, sir."

"Thank you," Hotch replied. The officer nodded and closed the door.

"Hotch?" Reid called out seeing his Unit Chief getting to his feet along with Prentiss. The dark-haired agents turned. "I may have something," he added.

"What is it?" Hotch asked crossing his arms across his chest as both agents joined Reid at the white board. With a faint smile, Reid turned back to the board.

"Okay," Reid placed his marker on the first 'X.' "The first victim, Anthony Barstow, was found here two weeks ago. Then two weeks later, the second victim, Shannon Carstairs, was found here." He moved his marker again. And the third victim, Thomas Gannon, was found here. So in other words…" he circled the three 'Xs.' "…our Unsub lives somewhere in this area. This is his comfort zone." Reid tapped his marker inside the circle he just drew.

"Good work," Hotch praised. "This is the area in which we will concentrate our search for the Unsub." He looked at the young genius. "Reid, while Prentiss and I are talking to Barstow's father, I want you to pay a visit to Lorimar's bookstore and speak with Barstow's boss. See if you can find out if Barstow was meeting anyone, or if anybody was seen lurking around outside the store of late."

Hotch and Prentiss then left the room as Reid grabbed his jacket and followed behind them.

* * *

After parking the SUV outside the small red brick house, Rossi and Morgan exited their vehicle. They followed Detective Parsons, who had parked in front of them, up the walkway to the porch where two uniformed officers stood guard outside the front door. The trio hurried up the steps, past the two officers, and passed beneath the yellow crime scene tape stretched across the front door and into the residence. The first thing which greeted their eyes was the covered body in the center of the living room; the white sheet spotted with blood. Other plainclothes detectives were searching the premises. Parsons saw the medical examiner making notations, and knelt beside the body.

"What have we got, Ken?" he asked lifting one corner of the sheet allowing him and the agents a glimpse of the body. Letting out a deep breath, the detective let go of the sheet.

"Same as the others," Barlow replied as he approached the trio. "The victim was viciously beaten. Body cut in half at the waist, and all the blood drained. I'll know more after an autopsy, but I don't expect any surprises. We didn't want to move the body until you and the FBI arrived."

"Frank?" a voice called out causing Parsons to turn. A young uniformed officer walked toward him carrying an evidence bag which contained a crushed white Dahlia. He handing it to the detective. "This was beneath the body, sir."

Parsons handed the bag to Rossi who examined it before handing it to Morgan. After examining it, Morgan handed the bag back to the uniformed officer.

"Y'know, Rossi, I wonder whether our friend is growing these Dahlias on his own property," said Morgan. "Or is he buying these after he's chosen his next victim."

"Good question," Rossi replied. "It's worth looking into anyway."

"Why should we care where he's getting the flowers?" asked Parsons looking at the agents, confused.

"Because he has to have access to them," Rossi answered. "Detective, have one of your men find out if anybody has purchased Dahlias recently. Or if anybody has been growing them. These flowers are native to Mexico and Central America and need certain care here in the US. Our Unsub has to either be growing them on his own, or has somewhere he can get them when he needs them. It could be helpful to know where he's getting them."

"I see what you're saying," Parsons relented. "I'll have my men look into it. Anything else?"

"Not right now. I think we'll look around upstairs." Rossi and Morgan separated themselves from the detective and went up a nearby flight of stairs. They came to an open bedroom door and went inside to see what they could find. Rossi scanned the bookshelf, gazing at the rows of hardcovers and paperbacks beside a desk on which sat textbooks, and a notebook. On the floor beside the desk sat a backpack containing more books. Rossi picked up one of the textbooks from the desk and flipped through it.

Morgan, meanwhile, was on the other side of the room checking out the large collection of cassettes and DVDs. "This guy's got a varied taste in movies and music," he remarked to the older man. He moved on to a small table on which sat a phone, its red light flashing. "Hey, Rossi, this guy's got messages." Morgan pressed the play button as Rossi joined him.

There were three messages from Westmont College inquiring as to Gannon's whereabouts. Two messages from the young man's father asking that he call him. One message from somebody named Becky whom the agents suspected might be a girlfriend. Two hang-ups with no messages left. And the last message was from a doctor confirming an appointment for the following afternoon. With each call, a phone number, name, and time and date of call showed on the caller ID except for the hang-ups. They both showed as unknown names and unknown numbers. The agents paid attention to the two hang-ups. But there was nothing odd about them by themselves unless they could find something else to link to them.

"Nothing here indicates Gannon was anything but a clean-cut American kid dedicated to his studies," Rossi remarked.

"And no idea how he crossed paths with the Unsub," Morgan said. "Unless those hang-ups are connected to him somehow."

"I know. It's almost like he's picking people at random." Reaching inside his jacket when his phone vibrated, Rossi pulled out his cell phone and checked the caller ID. He pressed the phone to his ear. "What's up, Hotch?" He listened while Morgan watched his face; he saw the older man's eyes narrow and his eyebrows knit together. "No, Morgan and I are still at Thomas Gannon's home. We'll check and get back to you. Bye." He disconnected the call and looked at Morgan.

"What did Hotch want?"

"He and Prentiss spoke with Gannon's father. He told them his son had been tense the last few days as well as a bit nervous about something. But when he pressed him about it, he denied anything was wrong. He also said one time while visiting his son, the mail came, and his son's mood changed from being happy to scared and nervous."

"Sounds like something he received in the mail scared him. Hopefully he kept whatever it was and didn't destroy it as it might give us a clue." He walked over to the desk, pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and started going through the desk drawers. Rossi did the same and picked up the backpack. After a few minutes, Morgan pulled out an envelope from one of the desk drawers. It had been inside a hardcover book. The outside had no return or addressee addresses, only Gannon's name, typed in bold. He removed the contents from the ripped open envelope. "Hey Rossi, check this out." He handed him the single sheet of paper.

The older man read the typed messages on the white sheet of paper. "I think we found our link," he said.

The single typed line on the paper read: "I AM WATCHING YOU. SOON, THOMAS, SOON." The date was two days before the two hang-ups on the telephone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Reid parked his SUV outside Lorimar's bookshop in town. The young genius exited his vehicle, and walked to the door in a couple of strides. He pushed open the front door of the shop, hearing the little tinkle of the tiny bell atop the door. With his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, Reid's eyes looked around the crowded bookshop and fell on three cashiers who were waiting on customers. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, the young agent removed his credentials. Approaching the closest cashier, he held up his identification for her to see without attracting attention from the customers. Reid heard her give a small gasp when she saw the badge.

"Excuse me, but I am Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit," he said. "I need to speak with Mr. Lorimar, the owner. Is he available?"

The young cashier, whose name tag read MANDY on it, chewed her lower lip. "Uh, he's in the back room checking on our shipments."

Reid tucked his credentials back inside his jacket. "And where might that be?"

The girl turned and pointed to a closed door in the far corner of the store marked 'private.'

"He was in there last time I saw him."

"Thank you." Reid turned away aware of several pairs of eyes staring at him including the three cashiers. People often mistook him for either a college student, or a college professor. Many even considered him to be a nerd, but he didn't care. He was use to the comments. Only those who had been close enough to overhear him identify himself as an FBI agent seemed surprised somebody so young could be an agent. Reaching his destination, Reid knocked on the closed door and turned the doorknob when a voice said "Come in."

Walking in, Reid was greeted by a man about thirty or thirty-five with sandy-blond hair and hazel eyes. He had been opening a cardboard box containing several books by an author Reid recognized. The man stood up, wiping his hands with a rag.

"This room is for employees only," the man said studying the young agent's face.

"Glenn Lorimar?" Reid asked reaching inside his jacket again.

"Yeah. Who are you?" the man's voice was somewhat harsh as he tossed the rag aside. He was not in the mood for guessing games or interruptions. "If it's about a job…"

Reid held out his credentials. "I'm Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI and…"

"_You're_ an FBI agent?" Lorimar asked with raised eyebrows handing the credentials back to the agent. "I never woulda guessed you for a fed. I suppose you're here about Tony."

"I am. And may I say I'm sorry for your loss. What can you tell me about him?"

Lorimar, his arms crossed across his chest, shrugged his shoulders. "Not much. He was a private person, y'know. Didn't interact with the other employees much. Kept to himself mostly."

"What was he like as an employee?"

"He did his job. Always willing to help. Was always on time and courteous. I never had any complaints about him from anybody. I can't understand why anybody would want to kill him."

"Can you tell me what happened the day he disappeared?"

"I'll try. From what I can recall, it was a pretty normal day for us. Nothing out of the norm happened. I was running late so I called and asked Tony to open the store, and handle things until I got here. He always opened for me when I was running late. Y'know, now that I think about it, that was the first time he said he couldn't do it as he had something he had to do."

"Did he always fill in for you when you were going to be late?"

"Sure. Either him or Mandy. She's one of our cashiers. After Tony told me he couldn't do it, I called and asked her."

"Did he ever tell you what it was that prevented him from opening the store for you?"

"Now that you mention it, I never saw him. When I spoke to Mandy, she said Tony never called or came in to work. We tried calling him but got no answer, so we didn't think anymore about it until closing time and he still hadn't called. That's when we began to worry because it was so unlike him not to tell me if he was gonna take time off or be late."

"Was there anybody here in whom he might have confided?" Lorimar shook his head.

"Did he have an explanation the next day?"

"I don't know. He never came back or called, so I figured he had just quit. I tried calling him to come and pick up his paycheck but never heard from him."

"Did he seem troubled by anything? Or perhaps indicate something or someone was bothering him?"

Lorimar shook his head. "Nothing that I can recall. Like I said earlier, he was a private guy. If something or someone was bothering him, he kept it to himself."

"Can you think of anybody who might want to see him dead?"

"To quote an old adage, everybody liked him. Sorry."

"One last question. Prior to Tony's disappearance, do you recall seeing anybody hanging around outside the bookstore who looked suspicious? Somebody you or one of your employees had to call the police about?"

Lorimar shook his head. "I've never seen anybody hanging around outside the store. I can't speak for my cashiers. But you can ask them if you want."

"I will. Thank you for your time." Reid handed Lorimar a business card. "If you can think of anything else, don't hesitate to call." Reid then turned and left the back room, determined to speak with the cashiers next, beginning with Mandy.

* * *

As Hotch and Prentiss walked back to the conference room, his cell phone vibrated. He reached inside his jacket and removed it. Seeing the name of the caller, he put the phone on speaker. "What do you have, Garcia?" he asked.

"Sorry it took so long to get back to you, my handsome, dimpled leader, but I finally finished my search. First, our three victims have no connection with any of the med students or surgeons who meet the criteria you gave me earlier. Second, the final count is 40 med students and one hundred twenty surgeons who have been bad boys. And three, a search into the background of one Thomas Gannon shows not even a parking ticket. He was nothing more than a full-time student with no connections to anything illegal in any shape, manner, or form. He has a girlfriend named Rebecca Stanton who is also a junior and is as clean as the proverbial whistle, sir."

"Do you have an address for Rebecca Stanton?" asked Prentiss with a chuckle which she tried to stop but failed.

"I do my raven-haired beauty. I just sent it to your phones. She lives near the campus. Anything else, my fearless leader?"

Prentiss smirked and shook her head at the tech analyst's comments about their Unit Chief while Hotch, ignoring her, exhaled as his eyebrows knitted. "We have to reduce the list of surgeons and med students, Garcia. Cross-reference those you found with how many took place a year before the first murder. Get back to me when you finish."

"Yes, sir."

"And Garcia…?"

"Sir?"

"Don't call me your handsome, dimpled leader again."

"Just speaking the truth, sir. Gotta go. Tootles." Garcia disconnected the call before Hotch could respond. With a shake of his head, Hotch tucked the phone back inside his jacket and glared at Prentiss who chuckled despite the look on his face.

"What?" asked Prentiss feigning innocence.

"Don't encourage her." Hotch shook his head as a faint smile appeared which he hoped the female agent didn't see. "I need to do a better job of keeping her and Morgan apart on the phone."

"Good luck," Prentiss smirked as she passed Hotch and entered the conference room. The Unit Chief glared at Prentiss's receding back as he followed her into the room.

Hotch stood before the board Reid had been working on and crossed his arms across his chest. He stared at the circle and the three Xs in the center. _Somewhere in this radius is our Unsub, _he thought to himself. _He is either living or taking his victims within this circle._ He turned when the door opened, and JJ walked into the room.

"Well?" asked the Unit Chief.

"The press conference is scheduled for an hour from now as you wanted," the blond explained looking from Hotch to Prentiss and back to Hotch.

The vibration of the Unit Chief's phone interrupted them. Hotch reached inside his jacket again for his phone. After checking the caller ID, he pressed the phone to his ear. "Hotchner. What have you got, Reid?" Hotch turned away as he listened. A few minutes later, Hotch tucked the phone back in his jacket and faced the women. "That was Reid. He spoke with Barstow's boss and several coworkers. It seems Barstow was suppose the open the bookstore the day before he was murdered, but told his boss he couldn't and gave no reason. He never showed later, and never came back. Nor did he contact his boss to tell him anything. His boss assumed he quit. He tried calling him to come and pick up his paycheck but never heard from him."

"That's strange," Prentiss commented. JJ agreed.

"What's strange?" asked Morgan as he and Rossi entered the conference room. Both men looked tired.

"Look what the cat dragged in," JJ smirked. Morgan shook his head and fell onto a chair. He ran a hand over his bald head.

"Any luck?" asked Hotch.

"Just this," Rossi replied reaching inside his inner jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to his Unit Chief who removed the single sheet of paper, and read the message aloud. When finished, Hotch looked at his team.

"The day after he got that letter…" Morgan said. "There were two hang up calls on his phone. The caller left no messages either time. Could have been the Unsub."

"We also asked Detective Parsons to have a few of his men check the florist shops," said Rossi. "I don't think he was too keen on the idea until Morgan and I convinced him."

"Good idea," Hotch concurred. "As the Unsub has been leaving Dahlias with each victim, he'd either have a supply of his own, or growing them himself."

"Exactly. Did Thomas Gannon's father have anything else to say?" Rossi asked his boss, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.

"Not much," Prentiss replied with a subtle shake of her head. "Just that his son had never been in trouble with the law, was a good student, and was serious about his schoolwork and his girlfriend, Rebecca Stanton, who lives near the campus."

"We got Rebecca Stanton's address from Garcia," Hotch explained. "As well as that of Shannon Carstairs brother, Jason. Morgan, after we give the profile, I want you to drive to Justin Carstairs address in Alameda. Maybe he can tell us something we haven't already found out."

"And I'll speak with Rebecca Stanton," Rossi volunteered. "I'm familiar with the area around Westmont College. It'll be a nice drive for me."

"Not to mention checking out those young college coeds," JJ teased with a knowing smile while looking at the older profiler. Rossi smirked.

"For your information, I gave up chasing coeds in my younger days," he said. "I prefer an older, more refined woman these days."

Prentiss looked up at the blond and snickered. "What he means is somebody with whom he can keep pace in his old age." JJ chuckled along with Morgan.

Rossi turned to his best friend with a smile. "Ah, Aaron, it's too bad youth is wasted on the young folks." Hotch smiled which was a rare occurrence. "You and I could teach these young'uns a thing or two about respecting us older folks." The others laughed at the older man's joke.

"Speak for yourself, Dave," Hotch teased. "I'm younger than you anyway."

Rossi leaned close and examined his best friend. Hotch arched his eyebrows. "What are you looking at?" he asked.

"Just counting the gray hairs in that thick head of black hair on your head," Rossi joked. The others were unable to contain their laughter at their leader's expense.

All right, calm down everybody. Stop picking on Dave," Hotch said with a feigned look of annoyance on his face. "Let's give the profile." The others followed their leader into the center of the police station where members of the media and the detectives, including Parsons, sat waiting.

"We're going to give you what we call a preliminary profile," Hotch began, arms crossed across his chest. "What that means is we're giving you a profile which can change based on new information." He paused and looked around the room seeing he had everybody's attention. "We're looking for a white male between thirty-five and forty years-of-age…"

"How do you know that?" asked one of the younger detectives disbelievingly.

"Because he's not impetuous," Hotch added not liking to be interrupted, but not letting it show either. "He's meticulous and takes his time with his victims. That indicates an older person."

Rossi, hands stuffed in his pockets, continued. "A younger man is still trying to find himself and what he prefers and likes when he kills. The attacks wouldn't be so surgically carried out were our Unsub a younger man. It's as Agent Hotchner said. Our Unsub is an older man. So look for people with medical backgrounds. Surgeons, medical examiners, medical students." His eyes fell on a female raising her hand. "Yes?"

"Excuse me. What is an Unsub?" she asked.

"Unsub is short for Unknown subject," Rossi added with a faint smile.

"He either resides in this area, or is familiar with the area," Morgan crossed his arms. He sensed the next question and answered it before it was asked. "Someone who isn't, wouldn't be able to find his way around these woods. It would be too easy to get lost in them. Only somebody familiar with these woods would be able to come and go without a problem."

"People feel comfortable around him," Prentiss continued as she tossed a few strands of her black hair over her shoulder. "By that we mean he doesn't stand out and his victims aren't suspicious or fearful of him when they meet. That makes it easy for him to overpower them once he's selected his next victim."

"How does he subdue them?" someone asked.

"He uses a taser," Hotch continued. "The first two victims had burn marks on the back of their necks. We believe once he gets the victims relaxed around him, he uses the taser to overpower them. This Unsub also enjoys inflicting the most pain he can, especially on his female victims. And while he has killed only one woman so far, the savagery inflicted on Shannon Carstairs can be seen as opposed to Thomas Gannon and Anthony Barstow. We also believe Barstow's death may have been what we call a practice run, before he killed Shannon Carstairs and Thomas Gannon."

"He's mimicking the Black Dahlia murder from the 1940s," Rossi added. "That murder has never been solved. We believe he selected this particular murder because of the brutality involved. Also, the brutality inflicted on Elizabeth Short aka the Black Dahlia, we believe, is why he inflicted the same amount of brutality on Shannon Carstairs and Thomas Gannon. He wants to show us how he improves with each kill. But the difference here is he leaves behind either a white or pink Dahlia with his victim. We believe the color of the flower is symbolic of the sex of the victim. White for male; pink for female. So check with known florist shops in town. Find out who might have bought Dahlias to grow or the flowers themselves. He would need to have these flowers available for him to use."

"That's all. Thank you," Hotch concluded before he walked away with the others following him.

* * *

After parking his vehicle, he strolled around the semi-crowded street in town looking at and studying the people. He felt the urge to torture and kill someone building inside him. Also, he needed to throw the FBI off their game just a little more. But after an hour, he still hadn't found the right victim. This time he needed a woman; the right woman to kill. With a sigh he looked across the street and that was when he spotted her. A slow smile appeared on his face. Yes, she would do nicely. But first, he needed to watch her more before he made his move.

She was struggling with an armload of packages and bags when he jogged across the street toward her. He arrived in time as she dropped a bag and one package. Being a gentleman, he bent down, picked them up, and handed both to her with a charming smile.

"Thanks," she replied gratefully as she took them from him, a smile on her face.

"You've got quite an armload there. I hope you have a car at least to get where you gotta go."

She sighed. "Unfortunately no. My car's in the shop and I had a lot of errands to run. I guess I'll have to flag a taxi to get me home."

The man's face lit up like a child's on Christmas day. "This is your lucky day, Miss…"

"I'm sorry. It's Meadows. Clarissa Meadows."

"This is your lucky day, Miss Meadows. My taxi is parked across the street. I was taking a break and stretching my legs. I'd be glad to give you a ride home if you'd like."

Clarissa looked warily at the man. She was normally careful around people she didn't know, especially men. But this man didn't look like a troublemaker. And he seemed harmless. "That's all right," she replied anyway, her wariness overtaking her. "I can make it on my own."

The man shrugged. "Suit yourself. Good luck." He started walking back across the street where a yellow cab was parked at the corner. From the corner of his eye, he saw her start to walk away when one of the bags broke, scattering its contents at her feet. She muttered something unintelligible as she crouched down and attempted to pick up the fallen items.

The man hurried back in her direction. He bent down and scooped up the dropped items, placing them in her crowded arms.

"Thanks again," Clarissa repeated. "On second thought, is that offer of a cab ride still good?"

The man smiled. "For a pretty lady like yourself, I'll do you one better. I won't turn on the meter. Call it my good deed for the day." He began to take a few of her packages and bags and led the way across the street with the woman following behind him. A cunning smile appeared on his face of which the woman didn't seem to take notice.

"I can't let you do that, Mister…uh, I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Sorry. It's Armitage. Jason Armitage." He placed his armload of packages in the trunk of his cab, and closed it after she put the rest of hers in as well. He then hurried to the passenger door and held it open, bowing in a gentlemanly manner for her to get inside and relax.

"Thank you, Mister Armitage," Clarissa smiled as the door closed behind her unknowingly sealing her fate.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The man studied the woman from the far corner of the room. He closed his eyes imagining the screams of agony which would emerge from her lips as he cut into her. The euphoria of the blood gushing from her body after he cut her in half. A contented sigh escaped his lips as a serene expression crossed his face. The woman was so helpless, and would be the perfect kill to hand the FBI before he went after the man he hated with a passion. He opened his eyes and grabbed the leather apron from its hook on the wall beside him. After putting it on, he tied the straps behind him. Right now he wanted her to wake up so he could continue.

Clarissa Meadows struggled to open her eyes. Her body felt so cold while at the same time, her head ached something fierce. For a while she believed she was in a refrigerator. Her brain kept ordering her eyes to open, but they didn't seem to want to obey. She tried to remember what happened that resulted in her being in this condition, whatever 'that condition' turned out to be. She had no idea how much time had passed since she got in the taxi. The last thing she recalled was relaxing in the back seat of a taxi. Had there been an accident? The pounding in her head prevented her from thinking rationally at the moment. She tried to lift a hand and massage her forehead but didn't have the strength. In addition, she couldn't move her hand. Something painful prevented it from moving. With effort, Clarissa opened her eyes a slit and struggled to raise her aching head to see why she couldn't move. What she saw made her gasp.

She was tied down on a metal table, and to her horror, naked! Also, her arms were stretched out from her sides and her legs spread-eagled. Her wrists and ankles had been secured to the table with wire which dug into both painfully. Feeling she wasn't alone, Clarissa slowly turned her head to the side, the motion itself painful. Her eyes widened in fear when she spotted the man who had been so nice earlier, walking towards her. He held something shiny at his side. She gasped at the demonic grin on his face.

"It's time, my dear Clarissa," he said holding the carving knife up in front of him. He ran his free hand over her chest, to savor groping her perfect breasts; taking time to squeeze her nipples. He then ran his hand down her smooth skin to her flat abdomen. Next, he ran his hand over the mound between her legs, curling strands of pubic hair around a finger. He chuckled at her trembling at his touch. "So, so beautiful, Clarissa. So very, very, beautiful."

"Wh…why are you…doing this?" she asked in a voice above a whisper.

"Because I can." To emphasize the point, the man sat the point of the carving knife on her left collarbone. He drew it across to her right, leaving a thin red line in its wake. The woman grimaced from the pain. Once finished, the man admired the cut. "You think that is painful? You have no idea of what pain is yet. Believe me when I say you will before I kill you."

Clarissa's eyes widened at the news. "Please…no. Please let me go. I promise…I promise I won't tell anybody," she sobbed, not caring that she begged for her life.

The man stared at her with a blank expression. Then without warning, he drove the knife up to its hilt into her right breast and began to twist and turn it as screams of agony reverberated in the room.

He kept at it for hours: cutting, slashing, gouging, enjoying the screams and the blood spraying everywhere. Only when the woman's screams of pain had been reduced to whimpers, did he put down the carving knife, and picked up a crowbar from the aluminum table nearby. Raising the crowbar above his head, he proceeded to beat the woman about her head until the whimpers stopped. Tossing the crowbar aside, he pressed two bloody fingers against her bloodstained throat, and was delighted to find no pulse. He smiled knowing she was now dead. He stared at the woman's bloodstained face. She had been a beautiful woman when he met her hours ago, and she would make a beautiful corpse.

As he stared at her face, he imagined looking at the face of Aaron Hotchner. As the agent's face replaced that of Clarissa, a demonic grin appeared. The FBI agent would be next he had decided. He understood he would be risking everything by going after the profiler next, but he had never been a patient person. Besides, there was risk in everything. No, Aaron Hotchner would be the next and last person to die. Afterward, he would disappear and relish his victory over Hotchner and the FBI. It would be his crowning achievement. With a contented sigh, his eyes closed as he pictured Hotchner's shock when he realized who had been responsible. The image of Hotchner's body, stripped bare of clothing, and strapped to the table with wire, excited him. He would take his time with him, wanting to savor each minute before he killed him.

How would he react when Hotchner's body had been cut in half, and hung from hooks? He would wash his hands in the man's warm red blood as the body drained, letting the blood run through his fingers. In the end, he would toss Hotchner's body out like trash for the other agents to find "Soon, Aaron. Soon we will be together, and I will get my revenge."

But first he had to finish with Clarissa Meadows. With a sigh, he reached over and grabbed the machete from the table.

"But first, my dear Clarissa, I must deal with you," he said as he placed the razor sharp blade against her body and began to cut. As he did so, he hummed a tune as dreams of cutting on Aaron Hotchner ran through his head.

* * *

Hotch, Prentiss and Reid had been reviewing the files on their third victim when Hotch's cell vibrated. The Unit Chief reached inside his jacket and removed the phone. After checking the caller ID, he put the cell on speaker.

"Go ahead, Garcia. You're on speaker," he said, the phone in his hand.

"I did as you asked, my liege," the tech analyst began. "I narrowed our list of slime balls down to 26 surgeons and 17 med students who have been naughty and not nice. You can bet Santa Claus won't be visiting them this year, and…"

"Garcia, Santa Claus, also known as St. Nicholas, Father Christmas, and Santa, is a figure with legendary, mythical, historical and folkloric origins," Reid interjected, rambling. "In fact, in many western cultures, he is believed to bring gifts to good children during late evening and…" Reid closed his mouth when his boss looked at him with a glare which would wilt a cactus. "Sorry," he apologized, looking at his boss.

"Continue, Garcia…" Hotch ordered.

"Yes, sir. Well, as I was saying, after limiting the list of our slime balls to a year before the murders began, I cross-referenced the names with those of our three recently deceased."

"What did you find out?" asked Prentiss leaning against the table with both arms on top.

"I discovered, my dark-haired goddess, that although none of our three dearly departed had any connections with our slime balls personally, there is a connection between two surgeons and the relatives of two of our dearly departed."

"Who, Garcia?" Hotch asked with narrowed eyes.

"Uh, un momento, mon Capitan…" her fingers could be heard as they flew over her keyboard. "Ah. Remember I told you earlier that Shannon Carstairs mother, Barbara, died of breast cancer? Well, she had been diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer in September of 2009. But sixteen months earlier, she underwent bilateral mammograms after complaining of tenderness in both breasts. The mammograms turned out normal. In September of 2009, she had a routine screening mammogram which showed a suspicious area in both breasts. She underwent extensive treatment including radiation, chemotherapy, hormone therapy, and surgery. It was determined in the end, that had the abnormalities been reported, her cancer would have been diagnosed earlier and not spread, thus causing her to pass away two years later."

"But the surgeon didn't cause her death," Prentiss interjected. "It sounds like that was the fault of the radiologist who interpreted the mammograms."

"True, my brunette crime fighter," Garcia replied. "But, her physician and the radiologist both were sued as was the hospital."

"Who was her doctor?" asked Reid.

"His name is Myron Denser, and the surgeon who operated on her. And get this. Throughout the trial, he claimed that her mammogram had been completely normal, and did not show any suspicious areas requiring follow-up. He also claimed that her cancer had already spread beyond her breasts before, so her prognosis hadn't worsened over the supposed delay of sixteen months. A settlement was reached before trial for the whopping total of one million, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. His license was not only revoked after that, but he was terminated by the hospital along with the radiologist who committed suicide before the settlement was reached. But to this day, my brave crime fighters, Dr. Denser still proclaims his innocence, and went on the record that the Carstairs family was responsible for him losing his livelihood."

"Could be our Unsub," Prentiss said to Hotch as they looked at each other.

"We should have a talk with Dr. Denser," the Unit Chief replied. "Garcia, where is Dr. Denser these days?"

"I haven't found him yet, sir. But he cannot escape from the all-knowing goddess of technology. I will search under every rock until I find him."

"Fine, Garcia," Hotch added. "You said there was another surgeon?"

"Yes, sir. Donald Gannon, father of Thomas Gannon, sued his family doctor, Stanley Dracut, for what was believed to be surgical mistakes. Seems Dr. Dracut performed an appendectomy for acute appendicitis three years ago. A few days after he was discharged, Mr. Gannon developed respiratory problems. When he returned to the hospital, he was diagnosed with multiple organ failure. It was discovered that his kidneys, lungs, and heart had not only seriously deteriorated, but that during the appendectomy, bacteria from his appendix had leaked into his abdominal cavity. It was believed that his decline in health was due to him not being properly treated for the abdominal infection during surgery. Mr. Gannon sued Dr. Dracut and was awarded numerous damages due to the damage he suffered as a result of the surgical mistakes."

"Do they say how much?" asked Reid.

"They do not, my baby genius."

"What about Dr. Dracut, Garcia?" Hotch asked. "Is he still allowed to practice medicine?"

"He is, mon Capitan. And still at the same hospital. He and his license were both suspended for six months after the trial. But despite my top super powers, I found nothing. Not even a parking ticket."

"Did he blame Donald Gannon for the lawsuit?"

"Not from what I can tell. In the end he did the right thing and admitted he was at fault, so the hospital didn't fire him after the trial. His accepting responsibility was also why his license wasn't revoked as well."

"Okay. Send us Dr. Dracut's address and that of the hospital in which he's employed," Hotch ordered.

"Already sent to you, oh fearless leader of mine. Also, I sent the list of med students and surgeons. You should getting it about now."

Hotch smirked at how Garcia could always anticipate what he was going to ask for before he asked. He shook his head with a grin. "Thanks. Find out what you can about Myron Denser. And try to be quick, Garcia. One of them could be our Unsub."

"I'll get back to you with the speed of lightening, sir."

The call ended, Hotch started to return the cell to his pocket when it vibrated again. Prior to checking the caller ID, he looked at Prentiss. "Get the information Garcia sent to us."

"I'm on it," the brunette replied getting up and leaving the room.

Hotch checked the caller ID and pressed the phone to his ear. "What is it, Morgan?" he asked getting to his feet and walking away from the table to talk privately. As he did so, the door opened and JJ walked into the room, a worried look on her face. Seeing her boss on the phone, she turned to Reid and Prentiss who had walked in the room.

"Is Hotch going to be on the phone long?" she asked, eyes darting to the Unit Chief's back.

"No idea," answered Reid. "He's talking to Morgan. What's up?"

"A Cecil and Dorothy Meadows walked in a few minutes ago to report their nineteen-year-old daughter, Clarissa, is missing."

"What do they mean by missing?" asked Prentiss, her dark eyes narrowing. "For how long?"

"Not long from what they told me. She had gone shopping earlier and was suppose to meet her parents for lunch and when she didn't, they called her on her cell. It had been turned off so Garcia couldn't track her location. Her parents didn't think anything about it, but considering the first two murders…" JJ didn't finish.

Prentiss and Reid exchanged looks then turned their attention back to the blond.

"Don't they realize a non-impaired or non-threatened person is required to be missing for twenty-four hours to be considered missing?" the young agent asked.

"They know, Spence," JJ replied with a shake of her head. "But they told me this is not like her. She always answers her phone and talks to her parents twice a day. Between us, I know how I would feel if my child was out-of-contact even for an hour. And I realize she hasn't been missing but a few hours. But there's just something I can't put my finger on, and…well, something just tells me she's might be in trouble." Thoughts of her one-year-old son, Henry, ran through her mind. And although still a baby, if she didn't know how or where he was, she would be screaming at every police officer she found until somebody listened. And even though she knew he was with his stay-at-home dad, Will LaMontagne, she still worried.

"What's going on?" asked Hotch tucking his cell in his inner pocket. His eyes shifted from the others to his media liaison. "JJ?" The blond repeated what she had just explained to the others. When finished, the blond looked at her boss and friend waiting for his decision.

"JJ, you talk with them. Find out if their daughter's really missing. If she is, then we'll have to assume our Unsub has her," Hotch replied letting out a weary sigh. "Since our Unsub moved up his killing schedule between his second and third kill, we can't take a chance he didn't grab Clarissa Meadows. And since his second kill was a woman and his third a man, his next kill will be a woman. We can't rule anything out at this point."

JJ nodded. "Hotch, are you sure you want me…"

"You can do it, JJ," the Unit Chief smiled. "I have faith in you."

JJ paused, then nodded. "Hotch, what if they ask if we think their daughter might have been kidnapped by our killer? What do I say?"

Hotch let out a deep breath. "We can't verify our Unsub even has her until we know for sure. If they ask, use your own judgment. I trust you explicitly."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, JJ's blue eyes looked in her boss's brown ones. "I'll do my best," she replied. She turned and hurried out the room to carry out her assigned task.

"What do you want us to do?" asked Prentiss holding up the papers she had picked up from the fax machine in the outer room sent by Garcia.

Hotch took a few moments to think. "Prentiss, contact Dr. Dracut. Find out what he can tell us about the lawsuit filed by Donald Gannon. Then speak with Gannon. I'm curious as to why when we spoke with him earlier he never mentioned the lawsuit or Dr. Dracut."

"I'm on it," Prentiss replied grabbing her jacket and rushing out the door. Hotch turned to his youngest agent.

"Reid, you and I are going to look through the documentation Garcia sent us and see what we can find. It's possible there might be something we overlooked." He sat down across from the genius and the two men began to go through the papers sent from Quantico.

* * *

He wiped the sweat and blood from his forehead with the back of his blood-smeared hand after stringing up the two halves of Clarissa Meadows' body from hooks in the ceiling. He smiled as the blood drained from her severed halves into large tubs he had rolled in place to collect the blood.

"You will be next Aaron Hotchner," he muttered under his breath, eyes fixated on the girl's body. "I will deal out brutality on you unlike anything dealt on my earlier victims. Before I'm through with you, you will beg me to kill you. But before I do, I will enjoy hearing you scream in pain, seeing the fear on your face and in your eyes. I will make sure everybody knows who's responsible." Approaching the tubs, he placed his hands under the warm blood leaving the body, and began to wash his hands using it as soapy water. Feeling it run between his fingers, he imagined it to be Hotchner's blood he was feeling. A slow smile appeared. "You will be mine in a few days, Aaron. But first, I have things that must be done to ensure you will come to me when I am ready for you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The door to the empty conference room opened, and JJ walked in with a faint smile on her face. She maintained the smile when her eyes fell on Mr. and Mrs. Meadows. The middle-age man had both of his arms around his wife's shoulders holding her close against him, her head resting on her husband's shoulder. The couple's eyes shifted up to the blond with eager expectation when she walked into the room.

"Is there any news on our daughter, Agent Jareau?" Mrs. Meadows asked, a handkerchief clutched against her chest.

"Please, call me Jennifer," the media liaison said as she sat down on a chair across from the couple. She rested her arms on the table with hands folded. "And to answer your question, we're still trying to locate her, Mrs. Meadows. Try not to worry."

The older woman smiled through her tears. "Please, call us Cecil and Dorothy," she said patting JJ's hand.

JJ gripped the woman's hand. She paused for several seconds. "Only if you call me Jennifer. I'd like to ask you a few questions about your daughter to help us get to know Clarissa."

"What do you want to know?" asked Cecil, his eyes focused on the blond. He liked the young woman, and believed his wife did as well. He found her easy to talk to unlike other law-enforcement officers he had spoken with over the years. She was genuine and not phony.

"Well…" JJ adjusted her position before she began. "Why don't you begin by telling me about Clarissa? What kind of person is she? What does she like to do for example?" She made sure to keep speaking about the missing woman in the present tense.

Cecil smiled. "She's our oldest, y'know. Most nineteen-year-olds want to be on their own and don't care about anything or anybody. But not Clarissa. She's a good girl. Never gives us a moment's trouble. We have two other daughters; Abigail seventeen, and Lorelei fifteen. Clarissa took it on herself to look after her sisters from the moment we brought them home from the hospital. She adores them with all her heart. She wanted to set an example for her sisters to follow."

"Everybody likes her," Dorothy added. "She will call us twice a day. Even if only to let us know what she is doing, or to ask about us. We never worry about her. Whenever she is late getting home, she will always call and let us know where she is so we won't worry."

"Sounds like a responsible young lady," JJ replied with a genuine smile and blue eyes twinkling.

"She is," Dorothy smiled. "It is so unlike her when she didn't show up to meet us for lunch, and didn't call to say she is running late. At first we didn't worry because her car is in the shop, and she had to rely on public transportation. And from personal experience, when you rely on public transportation, you always have problems."

"And as far as what she likes to do," Cecil added. "She likes to read, go to the movies, listen to music. Her studies at UC Santa Barbara are very important to her. That's the University of Santa Barbara," he explained at JJ's confused look. "She's a sophomore there. Just made the Dean's list last semester, in fact."

"You must've been very proud," JJ's smile widened. She liked these people and secretly prayed things would work out for them regarding their daughter.

"We are," Cecil smiled in response.

"She loves to play the piano and is pursuing a Bachelor of Music degree," Dorothy explained. "We bought her a used piano when she decided to pursue a music career. This way she can practice her playing. She wants to be a concert pianist. She is really very good."

The blond paused as she organized her next question. "Did she have a problem with anybody? By that I mean like a current or ex-boyfriend, a fellow student, teacher, or perhaps a neighbor?"

"Nobody comes to mind," Cecil said. "As my wife said, everybody at school and in the neighborhood likes her. Nobody ever said a bad thing about her."

"She doesn't have time for dating much," Dorothy added. "And the few boys she did go out with she wasn't serious about."

"Did any of the boys she went out with resent her breaking up with them?"

Dorothy shook her head. "No. I mean, the relationships weren't serious from the beginning. She always makes sure the boys know she isn't interested in a relationship. From what I can tell, they seem to understand. She always parted with the boys on a friendly basis. In fact, she's still friends with the boys she went out with."

"I'm going to need a list of the boys she went out with if you don't mind," JJ said.

"Why?" Cecil asked, eyes narrowing. "You think one of them might have done something to our daughter?"

"Not at all. We just like to speak to everybody who knows her. Besides, we find a child will often tell things to a friend they wouldn't tell their parents." JJ paused for a few minutes. "You told me your daughter went missing earlier today. Can you tell me what she was doing when you last heard from her?"

Dorothy let out a deep breath. "She had a lot of errands to run before she met us for lunch. She wanted to buy gifts for several of her friends at school, her sisters, and her grandparents. She also offered to pick up the gifts we wanted to get for her grandparents as well. Their fiftieth wedding anniversary is coming up, and we didn't have time to pick up the gift, so she offered to do it for us."

"Did you hear from her at all during that time?"

"The only call we got was while she picked up the gift we selected for her grandparents," Cecil said.

"When you spoke with her, what did she say? Did she sound frightened? Upset? Under stress?"

Cecil shrugged. "She sounded fine to me. She said she was about to leave the store, and would catch a cab to our place. We figured she would call us when she was on her way home to meet us for lunch. When we didn't hear from her, we tried calling her but the call went to her voice-mail. After waiting half an hour, we tried again but the call went to her voice-mail again. After the third try, we decided to come here. Our other daughters are home with the understanding to call us if they hear from her."

"Agent Jareau…Jennifer, can I ask you a question?" asked Dorothy.

"Of course."

"We've been reading about the two murders. Do you think our daughter…that is, is it possible our daughter…I guess what I'm asking is if there's a chance she's dead?"

JJ paused for a minute recalling Hotch's words to her before she met with the couple. She allowed another smile to appear. "No. Unless we find a body, we believe she is alive, and you must hold onto that also. Right now, your daughter is considered missing. But keep in mind we will do everything we can to find her and return her to you safe and alive."

The couple stared at the agent for several minutes. In the end, it was Dorothy who broke the silence after looking at JJ's gold wedding band.

"Jennifer, do you have children?"

"I have a one-year-old. His name is Henry."

"Then you understand how we feel. As one mother to another, do you believe our daughter is alive?"

JJ swallowed the building lump in her throat. "As one mother to another, Dorothy, yes I do. The people I work with are the best. If anybody can find Clarissa, they can. " She saw the couple exchange looks with each other before looking at her again.

"Thank you," Cecil added.

* * *

"Hotch, I know why the Unsub changed his time frame with his kills," Reid said. He became excited as his hazel eyes looked in his boss's deep-set dark brown ones. Hotch looked across at the younger man.

"What is it?"

"Before we arrived, his first two kills were two weeks apart. Since we've been here, he killed Thomas Gannon the same day he killed Shannon Carstairs. I believe us being here is the reason he's changed his time frame for killing."

"But why change his time frame just because we're here?"

"That I haven't figured out yet. The only thing I am positive of is that there's something about us being here that's caused him to speed up his killing time frame. The BAU's presence is the stressor."

"Care to make an educated guess then?"

Reid stared at his boss. He didn't make 'guesses,' educated or otherwise. And for Hotch to ask that question, the Unit Chief had to believe they needed help finding their killer.

"Sorry, but I don't make guesses. I base my answers on statistics and probability."

Hotch sighed and rubbed his forehead. He felt the start of a headache. "I know, and I'm sorry for asking. It's just that we have nothing. Nothing to tell us who this guy is. I was hoping by now we would at least have a motive for these murders, but we don't."

"I know," Reid agreed. "I can't help but feel we're missing something. Something right in front of our faces." He rubbed his chin and his eyes narrowed. "Y'know, Hotch, something just occurred to me."

"What?"

"Well, and hear me out first. What if…what if getting the BAU here to help with this case is the Unsub's motive."

Hotch mulled over what his youngest agent told him. If true, this would not be the first time. The Unit Chief had to admit that he agreed with Reid that the BAU's presence was the reason their killer had moved up his time frame. And if true, they needed move fast. Of course it wouldn't be something as easy as the killer wanting them to find and stop him. It never was. But whatever it was, Hotch felt he wasn't going to like the answer. He looked at his subordinate.

"He's trying to show his superiority to us. Sort of a 'look what I can do' mentality."

Reid shrugged. "We've often met Unsubs who liked nothing better than to show their superiority over the FBI and the BAU. It wouldn't be the first time." He paused. "Moving up his time frame might be his way of showing us how many people he can kill before we stop him."

Hotch's shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world was on them. "Then let's stop this bastard before the body count gets any higher," he added. He and Reid looked up when the door opened. JJ walked in and closed the door. She was holding a sheet of paper. Hotch was about to speak when his cell vibrated. Reaching inside his jacket, he removed the cell, checked the caller ID, and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Yeah, Dave?" he asked aware the others were watching him and waiting. Hotch's expression didn't change as he listened to what Rossi was saying on the other end. "From what you're telling me, the only victim who received any form of contact from the Unsub was Thomas Gannon and I'm curious as to why. Morgan's on his way back. We'll compare notes when you, Morgan, and Prentiss get back." He ended the call. "What happened with Clarissa Meadows' parents, JJ?"

She handed Hotch the sheet of paper on which were five names, then recapped her conversation with the couple as Hotch read over the names. "What is your opinion? Is Clarissa Meadows missing?"

JJ sighed. "In my opinion, Hotch, she is. But whether our Unsub has her is hard to say. These names are of boys she dated and broke up with before she disappeared. I asked her parents to give me the names even though they said the breakups are amicable. I've got Garcia running a check on them."

"Good." Right now they couldn't afford to dismiss anybody. Hotch watched his media liaison sit beside him. Her blue eyes looked sad. He knew something was troubling her. "What's wrong?" he asked.

JJ looked her Unit Chief in the face. She never could hide anything from him and wouldn't try. She licked her dry lips. "Hotch, I hated lying to that nice couple about their daughter when they asked me if she might be dead. I mean, how do you do this day after day, case after case?"

"Do what?" Hotch asked.

"Look a family straight in the eye and tell them their child is still alive when everything in your heart tells you they might be dead. Doesn't it ever bother you?"

Hotch let out a deep breath. "Of course it does. But what I have to keep telling myself is until there's a body, that person is alive. And hope is what every parent, spouse, or family member needs. If we believe their loved one is dead, they will believe it, and then what's the point? Hope is what they look for, and hope is what we give them until it's taken away by the Unsub." He and the blond remained silent for several minutes. Hotch knew his answer wasn't perfect, but it was the best one he had to give. And he believed it himself. If he didn't, he couldn't do this job. "Until proven otherwise, we can't say for a fact the Unsub has Clarissa Meadows," he added.

"So what do we do? Hotch, we have a missing girl who may or may not be the next victim of our Unsub," JJ pointed out.

The Unit Chief replied with a sigh. "That's why we're going to ask Detective Parsons to have his men look into her disappearance until we're sure. Right now we treat her disappearance as a missing person." He looked at the media liaison. "JJ, see if you can find Detective Parsons for me."

"Right away." JJ opened the door and just avoided Morgan. "Sorry," she said as she slid past the black agent and out of the room. Morgan, meanwhile, closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair JJ had vacated. Sheer exhaustion showed on his face as he ran a hand over his head. He looked at his boss and shook his head.

"What happened?" Hotch asked the agent.

Morgan let out a deep breath. "Justin Carstairs couldn't tell me much, Hotch. He and his sister did speak on a daily basis. But according to him, she never said anything or anybody was bothering her. And as far as he knew, there were no threatening phone calls or mail. And we never found anything when we searched her apartment. But he did tell me he offered to let her stay with him when she started her new job until she could afford a place of her own. In fact, he told me he expected her to move in with him a few days before she died, and became concerned when he didn't hear from her."

"That must have been rough," Reid said.

"Yeah," Morgan agreed. "I felt sorry for the guy, losing his only sibling like that. Where's Emily?" he asked not seeing the brunette.

Hotch told Morgan what Garcia had discovered, and that Prentiss was interviewing Dr. Dracut and Thomas Gannon's father. Morgan shook his head.

"So you feel either Denser or Dracut could be our Unsub?" he asked looking at Hotch.

"They both fit the profile even though Dracut admitted he was at fault and didn't blame the Gannon family," Hotch replied.

"And Denser?"

"We haven't located him yet. Garcia's still looking."

Morgan chuckled. "If anybody can find a person, it's Baby Girl." A smirk appeared on his boss's face at his term of affection for their tech analyst. A wide grin broke out on his own face.

Both men and Reid turned when the door opened and in walked JJ in front of Parsons. The man's face showed how much this case had affected him as it had the others.

"Thank you for coming, Detective," Hotch said. A tight smile appeared on the Detective's face.

"I was coming to see you anyway, Agent Hotchner, before I ran into Agent Jareau." Parsons reached into his jacket and removed his notebook. He flipped through several pages. "Agents Rossi and Morgan asked me to have my men check with the florist shops in town about the Dahlias."

"What did you find?" asked Morgan removing his sunglasses.

"Keep in mind we're still checking, but so far, my men haven't found any shop that has sold either the flowers, or the bulbs. But we're still checking."

Hotch sighed. "Have them keep checking." Parsons nodded and made a notation in his notebook. Finished, he looked at the Unit Chief.

"Will do. Uh, Agent Hotchner, Agent Jareau said you wanted to see me about a missing person?"

"That's right," Hotch shifted in his chair. "A young woman by the name of Clarissa Meadows, nineteen, has been missing for several hours. We're not sure if she's been taken by our Unsub at this point, but we would appreciate your men looking into her disappearance."

"What makes you think this Unsub might have her?" Parsons asked. His lack of enthusiasm at having his men stretched thinner than they already was seen on his face, and did not escape the profilers.

"We're not sure," Morgan explained sensing what Hotch did. "But we will treat her disappearance as if he does until we know otherwise."

"And if that turns out not to be the case…" Hotch continued as he crossed his arms. "…. wouldn't it be better to search for someone who turns out in the end to only be missing, then to ignore it and find out later you were wrong?"

Parsons let out a deep breath and let his eyes look at the profilers before he nodded. "I'll inform the men to begin a search for Clarissa Meadows right away," he added.

* * *

The man whistled as he rinsed out the back of his truck using a hose. A smirk appeared as the dirt washed away. He still had to dispose of Clarissa Meadows' body but he would not do it today; it would be too soon and careless on his part. No, he would wait twenty-four hours and then dump the body where it would be found. He couldn't wait for the reactions of the police and the feds. He chuckled at the image of the feds and the cops running around totally bewildered. The thought was amusing. Just as amusing as the letter and phone calls to Thomas Gannon.

To him, it was a stroke of genius. He believed the mistake he made before with Hotchner was sending him the same letter he had sent those attorneys. This time, he sent one letter followed by two hang-ups to one victim. It would throw the agents and the cops off track. A grin appeared when he thought about the letter he would send to the FBI the same day he dumped the body. He wished he could see Hotchner's reaction when that letter arrived. He guessed he would just have to fantasize about the man's response.

Once the back of the truck was clean, he turned off the hose and tossed it near the house. Next he had to clean the secret room and get it ready for his next guest. The girl's body was in an empty tub waiting to be cleaned inside and out. In addition, her hair still had to be washed before he got rid of her. But after Hotchner was dead, he would leave the secret room in whatever condition it was in because at that point he would not give a damn. He would want the room found. In fact, he wanted the feds to see evidence of how much their leader had suffered. Let them see the blood splattered walls and table; the bloody machete, carving knife, and crowbar. Let them see it all and understand what Hotchner endured before death. But first, everything had to be perfect for his arrival.

Walking back to his home, he climbed the steps and entered the residence. He had things to do before he began preparing for Aaron Hotchner's impending arrival in a few days.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Doctor Stanley Dracut let out a deep breath as he walked down the hallway towards his office. It had been one of those long exhausting days he couldn't wait to be over. The past six months had not been as difficult as today. He passed by several co-workers as he continued toward his office and smiled at them. They returned his smile, but to him, their smiles seemed forced. It had been this way since his admission of guilt involving Donald Gannon's appendectomy. He believed their smiles and pleasantries were because they tolerated him and his presence in the hospital. In reality, he had embarrassed them and the hospital in which they worked. He realized he had embarrassed himself and his chosen profession. Hell, a few of the people he had been close to before his 'incident,' as he considered it, were even shunning him like he had the plague. It would take a long time to regain the trust of his co-workers again. But he was determined to give it his best effort. If he failed and had to leave the hospital, at least he can hold his head high and say he tried.

Reaching his office, he opened the door and started to enter but froze in the doorway. Inside, he saw a beautiful woman with straight, shoulder-length black hair waiting for him. She was standing and looking at his framed lists of accomplishments on the far wall. Hearing the door open, she turned her head and looked at Dracut.

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting long, Miss…." Dracut closed the door behind him and smiled.

The brunette reached inside her jacket and removed something. "Not at all." She held up her credentials for him to see. "Emily Prentiss. I'm with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. I'd like to ask you a few questions." She put the identification away.

Dracut's eyebrows arched as he walked around his desk and sat down in his chair. "Not at all, Agent Prentiss." He gestured to the empty chair facing his desk for Prentiss to have a seat. She crossed her long legs which the doctor can only fantasize about as she wore slacks. But he was certain her legs would be as perfect as the rest of her. "Are you sure you want to speak with me, though?"

"You are Doctor Stanley Dracut, aren't you?" Prentiss asked, her eyes studying the man.

"I am," Dracut admitted, confused. "But I still don't…"

"And you operated on Donald Gannon three years ago?"

The smile on Dracut's face disappeared and replaced with a frown. He turned his attention to the file folders on the desk in front of him. "It is an unpleasant and unfortunate incident I would rather forget if you don't mind," he said not looking at her.

"Is that what you call it, doctor? Unpleasant and unfortunate?"

With a sigh, Dracut looked Prentiss in the face. "Look, I'm working hard to make up for what I did. And now you want to bring this up again? Why after all this time?"

"Have you been reading about the recent murders?"

"I have. Most disturbing. But I can't understand what…" his eyes widened with shock as realization suddenly sank in what she inferred. "You can't be serious. You can't possibly be accusing me of committing these crimes?"

"Doctor, these murders were committed by somebody with surgical precision and understanding. And you are a surgeon," Prentiss explained. "Where were you the day Shannon Carstairs and Thomas Gannon were murdered?"

"This is ridiculous!" Dracut became angry. "I'm trying to rebuild my reputation. I don't have to sit here and listen to this." He started to get to his feet.

"You will sit down, doctor. Or perhaps you would prefer answering questions at police headquarters?" Emily paused seeing the tension in Dracut's face. She knew she had hit a nerve and decided to dig a bit further. "Need I remind you the trouble you could face if this happens? You say you're trying to rebuild your reputation. You might not have a reputation to rebuild if I drag you to police headquarters in handcuffs. And if you're innocent, how much more damage will be done to your already damaged reputation? Do you really want more trouble, doctor?"

Dracut sat back down, resigned. He shook his head and looked at Prentiss knowing she was right. "That won't be necessary. To answer your question, agent, I've been assigned to working triage every day for the last week. The day of those two murders I was in triage all day handing a full room of patients. I know you'll check out my alibi. Go ahead."

"Dr. Dracut, tell me what happened during Mr. Gannon's surgery?" Prentiss's eyes never wavered. The doctor let out a deep breath.

"I…Mr. Gannon's surgery was the second surgery scheduled that day. I was tired from the earlier surgery which went longer than I had planned. When I began the appendectomy, I didn't realize I had nicked the appendix during the operation, or that there was leakage. I didn't realize anything had happened until a few days later when Mr. Gannon returned complaining of respiratory problems. Tests showed he was suffering from multiple organ failure. Fortunately, we were able to save him."

"And Mr. Gannon sued you for what happened?"

"Yes."

"Were you angry when he sued you? I mean you were suspended from a job you loved. And your license suspended preventing you from working in the medical field. Surely you must have felt anger towards Donald Gannon. Angry enough to want revenge perhaps?"

Dracut's face didn't change, but a sadness showed in his brown eyes. "Agent Prentiss, I'm going to say something which might surprise you. Donald Gannon was right to sue me."

Emily's eyebrows arched in surprise. She hadn't to expected to hear this. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I never should have operated on him when I did. If anything, I should have postponed it, or had somebody else do the surgery. I could have killed him with my carelessness. I couldn't deny being responsible for his physical problems later since I operated. So I did the only thing I could. I confessed my mistakes and prayed I would be given a second chance to atone for what I had done."

Prentiss nodded. "And you were in a way. You still have your job with the hospital, and you didn't lose your license although you and your license were suspended for six months."

"Then I don't understand..."

"I already checked out where you were at the time with your co-workers before I spoke with you. I needed to see if what you just told me matches with what your co-workers said. It does. You could not have murdered Thomas Gannon or Shannon Carstairs."

"Perhaps not," Dracut sighed. "But I still paid a price for my carelessness." He shook his head and swallowed the building lump in his throat. "The hospital put me on probation for two years. My surgical privileges are suspended for two years as well. Also, a few of my associates want nothing to do with me because I am a black eye on both them and the profession. And I have nobody to blame but myself. If word were to get to my superiors that I am a suspect in these murders, I can kiss my career and license goodbye."

Prentiss studied the man during their entire conversation and she had reached a conclusion. Doctor Stanley Dracut is not their Unsub.

* * *

David Rossi walked into the conference room looking exhausted. He exchanged looks with Morgan, Reid and JJ; Hotch was talking on his cell and looked at him briefly. He waved to him with a hand as he continued talking. As Rossi entered the room further, the Unit Chief disconnected the call and returned his phone to his inside jacket pocket.

"You look like someone who's had a long day," teased Hotch with a smirk.

"I'll tell you something, Aaron…" Rossi began running a hand over his hair. "…seeing all those college students reminds me of how old I am, and how young I wish I was."

"What happened, Rossi?" asked a grinning JJ with a shake of her head. "Not many coeds asked for your autograph?"

Morgan chuckled. "Naaaa. That's not it, JJ. Being at that campus just had Rossi reminiscing about the good old days when he was the center of attention with the ladies." He looked at the young genius. "What do you think Reid?"

Reid never looked away from his files. "Leave me out of it," he said. "I have no interest in discussing Rossi's love life."

"Smart kid," Rossi observed. He then smirked at Morgan and JJ. "I will have you both know, I am still the center of attention with the ladies; both young and old I might add." The older man grinned at Hotch who chuckled knowing the Bureau's non-fraternization rules were because of Rossi.

Morgan looked at his boss. "How 'bout you, Hotch? You have an opinion?"

Hotch glanced at his close friend and then at his subordinate. "Leave me out of this conversation," he said with a chuckle. "Besides, we have more important things than Rossi's love life of which, for the record, I have no interest in like Reid." He sat back down at the table.

Morgan, being outnumbered, decided to let things go. He looked at his boss and pursed his lips. "Who was on the phone?"

Hotch sighed. "That was Prentiss. Looks like we can scratch Dr. Dracut off our list of suspects. He has an alibi for the day Shannon Carstairs and Thomas Gannon were murdered. He was in triage all day and his presence can be verified by others who were present. Since Dracut is off our suspect list, I told her to forget about Gannon's father. Without Dracut, it doesn't matter why Gannon's father didn't tell us about the lawsuit anymore."

Just then Morgan's phone rang. Grabbing his cell, Morgan checked the caller ID and put the phone on speaker. "You're on speaker. What you got for me, baby girl?"

"I finally found Doctor Denser, my handsome chocolate God."

Morgan shook his head. "Hey sweet thang, shouldn't you be calling Hotch with this?"

"But I haven't talked to you in hours. I'm hurt. I felt like you didn't need me. This Baby Girl needs her chocolate stud muffin."

"Garcia, what did you find?" asked Hotch, getting to the point. While he enjoyed the banter between Morgan and Garcia as much as the next person, now was not the time.

"Oh, ah, yes sir. The good Doctor Denser is no longer a doctor. In fact, he's no longer anything."

"What does that mean?" asked Morgan, eyes narrowed.

"It means he's dead, handsome. It seems he took his own life."

Everybody exchanged confused looks. "Are you sure?" asked Hotch, eyebrows knitted. This news did not sit well with him. If true, they had just lost their one remaining suspect.

"Yes, sir. He shot himself over a year ago after his legal troubles regarding Barbara Carstairs. Nobody would hire him and he couldn't get his medical license back. He died penniless and blamed the Carstairs family up to the day he died."

"Garcia, how did you not find this out in the beginning when you searched?" Hotch asked harsher than he intended.

"Because, sir, Dr. Desner's body went unclaimed by his family, and he was buried in a pauper's grave. That's so sad. I mean, dying alone is sad enough, but to have nobody claim your body and…"

"Focus, Garcia."

"Right. Anyway, he had fallen off the grid after he lost his job and his license. He tried getting jobs in the medical field that didn't need a medical license, but lost every one of them. In fact, he had five jobs since he lost his license. In fact, his last job was that of a custodian in a medical laboratory under an assumed name. But the lab found out his real name and fired him toot-sweet. After that he went poof! Off the grid. Out-of-sight, out-of-mind as they say."

"Baby Girl, are they sure it was Desner's body?"

"Oh yes, my dark knight in shining armor. The reason I missed him is because I wasn't checking for unidentified bodies buried in a pauper's field. It was only a few days ago his body was exhumed by a family member and re-buried in a cemetery but has no headstone to date. His grave is unmarked as we speak. That is so sad."

"I hear you."

"Oh, before I forget, is my blond cupcake there with you?"

JJ smiled. "I'm here, Garcia. What can I do for you?"

"You have that backwards, Sunshine. I checked out those names you gave me in connection with Clarissa Meadows…"

"And…?" JJ asked.

"And nothing. Each name clean as a whistle. Not even a parking ticket. Sorry."

JJ sighed and tossed a strand of her hair over her shoulder. "Don't be sorry, Garcia. Thanks anyway."

"You're all welcome my heroic crime fighters. Be careful. Stay in touch." Garcia disconnected the call.

Morgan looked at Hotch. "Where does that leave us now?" he asked.

Hotch shook his head; his face grim. "It leaves us without a suspect anymore. And puts us back at square one."

"So what do we do next?" JJ asked leaning against the table, hands flat on top. She looked at her friends.

"I'll tell you what we should do next," Rossi said. "I think we should all go to dinner, and then head back to the hotel and get some sleep. It's been a long day for all of us."

Hotch looked around at the others for any objections to Rossi's suggestions. There were none. He got to his feet. "Dave's right. We can do more with fresh eyes after a night's sleep." He reached inside his jacket, pulled out his cell, and scrolled down until he found Prentiss's number. He pressed the cell to his ear as it rang on the other end. "It's Hotch. Listen, we're all heading out to dinner and then going back to the hotel. I don't know but I can check." He looked at Rossi. "Prentiss wants to know where she should meet us."

Rossi smirked. "Tell her I know this great Chinese place called…" he said loud enough to be heard over Hotch's phone.

Hotch held up a finger stopping the older man from continuing. "She says she knows the place you're talking about and she'll join us there," he added. "Join us when you can," Hotch informed Prentiss. He disconnected the call and returned his cell to his jacket. "Let's go." The team followed their leader out of the conference room leaving the stress and strain of their latest case behind for the following day.

* * *

The man leaned back in his chair and ran both hands over his hair while letting out a deep breath. A smirk crossed his face as he put on a second pair of Latex gloves. He pulled the single sheet of paper from the typewriter and stared at what he had typed. The last thing he needed were fingerprints to be found on the paper. So to eliminate that possibility, he wore gloves when he put the paper in the typewriter, and removed them so he could type his message. He read the message with a grin.

'_I am watching you. Soon. Very, very soon we will meet.'_

He laid the paper on the table and folded it before inserting it into an envelope. Once done, he used a piece of scotch tape to seal the envelope. He picked up a felt tip pen and wrote a single name across the front in block letters. When finished, he held the envelope in his hands and chuckled while looking at it.

"I wish I can see your face, Aaron, when this arrives tomorrow. But I promise you, forty-eight hours after this letter is received, you and I will meet and the game will begin."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Derek Morgan figured he would not get much sleep that night despite how exhausted he was. He suspected his teammates felt the same way. So, after a dinner of Chinese food and non-case related conversation, the team returned to their hotel. Hotch had ordered everybody to get a good night's sleep and be ready to look at the case with fresh eyes in the morning. After bidding the others goodnight, Morgan went inside his room and closed the door. But instead of going to bed, he turned on the television to catch the late-night sports scores. With the audio playing in the background, he walked into the kitchen, opened the mini-fridge, and grabbed a bottle of cold beer. He slouched on the sofa with feet on the table, and took a swig of beer. After finishing his first, he had started on his second when darkness overcame his weary body.

Morning came too soon as far as the agent was concerned. With a groan, he winced as he wiped the crustiness from his eyes. The pounding in his head wasn't helping at the moment either. He found an empty beer bottle on the table, and another on the floor. The television was still on, and a reporter was discussing the morning news. With another groan, Morgan lifted his arm and looked at his watch. It was going on five-thirty a.m. He figured he had enough time to catch a quick shower before he had to meet the rest of the team downstairs for breakfast. He dragged his tired body up off the sofa, grabbed the beer bottles, walked into the kitchen, and dumped them into the trash. Walking out of the kitchen and toward the bathroom, he spied an envelope on the floor, partially hidden under the door to his room.

Curious, Morgan walked to the door and crouched down to get a closer look. Suspicious, he reached into his back pants pocket and removed a pair of Latex gloves. After putting them on, he picked up the envelope and checked both sides before looking at the front. His name was written out in block letters. As the envelope was sealed with scotch tape, he carefully opened it, and removed the folded single sheet of paper. After he unfolded it, he read the contents, eyes narrowing. He stood up, hurried to the coffee table, and grabbed his cell phone. He scrolled through the names, and pressed speed dial for the one he wanted.

"C'mon, man. Hotch…Morgan. Listen, I found something slipped under my door when I woke up this morning addressed to me. You'd better come and see it yourself." He disconnected the call and waited after he left the letter on the coffee table.

Less than ten minutes later there was a knock on Morgan's door. He approached the door with gun in hand, and leaned against the door.

"Who is it?" he asked warily.

"It's Hotch."

Morgan put the safety back on his glock, and unlocked the door. He opened it wide enough for his boss to enter the room. To his amazement, Hotch was immaculately dressed in a navy blue pinstripe suit and tie, and every hair in place. For a moment, Morgan wondered if his boss had slept in his suit considering how fast he arrived. He closed the door.

"Where is it?" Hotch asked, concern etched on his face. Morgan gestured with his weapon towards the coffee table.

"On the table," he said.

Hotch strode towards the table as he removed a pair of gloves like Morgan's and put them on before he picked up the sheet of paper and envelope. His eyebrows knitted together as he read the message. He examined the envelope and the print of his subordinate's name caught his attention right away. There was something familiar about the block lettering. If he could only remember where he had seen it before now.

"Anybody else seen this?" he asked looking at Morgan.

"Just you."

Hotch nodded and produced two evidence bags from inside his jacket. He dropped the sheet of paper and the envelope inside each and sealed them. He reached into his pocket again, removed his cell, and pressed speed dial.

"Dave…Hotch. Listen, I'm in Morgan's room. You'd better get here right away. The Unsub's targeted his next victim. Okay." He tucked the phone back inside his jacket. "Rossi will be here in a few minutes. We need to find out why our Unsub is targeting you right now."

"C'mon, man. This guy kills boy, girl, boy, girl. He hasn't killed a girl yet so how could he be after me?"

Hotch had to admit even to himself Morgan had a point. A female's body hadn't been found yet, although Clarissa Meadows was still missing. Was the Unsub trying to throw the team off his scent? Or had Clarissa Meadows been murdered and her body not found yet? Hotchner needed answers to these questions. But regardless, it was his job to protect the members of his unit.

Both men turned when the door opened as Rossi entered the room, followed by JJ, Reid and Prentiss. The older man jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "They should hear about this," he added.

Hotch handed the evidence bags to Rossi who studied each one for a few seconds. "Morgan found this slipped under his door this morning."

"Any idea who sent it?" Rossi asked Morgan. Morgan shook his head and shrugged.

"No a clue. It was there when I woke up this morning."

"From the looks of it…" Rossi began looking at the letter. "…Derek has come across something our Unsub didn't want seen." He handed the two bags to Prentiss for her, Reid and JJ to examine. Rossi stuffed both hands in his jeans.

"That's impossible, Rossi," Morgan said. "I have no idea who this guy is anymore than the rest of you. What could I possibly have seen to make this guy find me a threat to him being caught?"

"I have no idea," Rossi replied. "But whatever it is, our Unsub seems to believe you've stumbled onto something that could result in him being found out."

"Which is why beginning today, Morgan, you will stay in the police station and work with Reid on trying to find something we can use." Hotch's face was serious. Morgan opened his mouth to argue and Hotch held up a hand stopping him. "Or…you have somebody with you at all times and go nowhere alone."

Morgan's annoyance showed and he rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Hotch. I don't need a babysitter."

"I know you don't need a babysitter," Hotch replied. "But it's a matter of keeping you alive until we catch this man. And you won't like it, but those are your choices. If you can't decide, I will restrict your movements to the police station."

Morgan let out a deep breath and stared at his boss, hands on hips. "Fine. I don't like it, but I'll take the babysitter. I have no intention of letting this bastard keep me from finding him."

Hotch smirked. "Good. Prentiss, beginning today, wherever Morgan goes, I'm assigning you to go with him."

"Yes, sir," Emily replied handing the evidence bags back to her boss. She glanced at Morgan. "And for your information, I am not your babysitter. If I was, I'd send your spoiled butt to your room and have you take a time out."

Morgan chuckled and shook his head. He glanced at the brunette woman. "C'mon, Princess…."

"Don't Princess me, Morgan. You step out of line just once, and I'll call Garcia and tell."

The others smiled at the banter between the two. Rossi caught a change in Hotch's expression.

"Aaron, what is it?" he asked, concern for the younger man on his face.

"I have no idea," Hotch replied looking at the envelope again. "But this block lettering seems familiar. I just wish I can remember where I've seen it though." He sighed. "The rest of you go to breakfast. I'm going to drop this off at police headquarters and checked for prints although I doubt they'll find any." He tucked both envelopes in his jacket pocket. "I'll meet you at the precinct."

Rossi let out a deep breath and looked at the others. "You guys go ahead and have something to eat. I'm not hungry anyway."

"You sure, Rossi?" asked JJ.

"I'm sure," the older man answered with a smile as he herded the others toward the door. "Hotch and I will meet you at the precinct after we hand these items to the police." He waited until the others left the room leaving Hotch and Rossi alone. After the door closed, Rossi gave his friend a look, indicating he understood Hotch needed to talk about something.

"It's you and me now," Rossi encouraged the younger man.

Hotch walked away from Rossi and rubbed the back of his neck. After a few minutes, he turned and faced his friend. "I can't explain it, Dave. I just can't."

"Okay. Tell me what's going through your mind right now. You still believe you've seen the blocked lettering before somewhere?"

Hotch stopped his pacing and stared at Rossi. "Yes. But for the life of me, I can't remember where I've seen it. But I know I've seen it somewhere."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"But you have no idea where. Okay, could it possibly have been from a case we've had recently?"

"All I know, Dave, is right now I can't think about anything except Morgan. For some reason the Unsub has targeted him. And if this note is genuine, then we've got another problem."

"And that would be?"

"The Unsub will have changed his MO and targeted two men in a row, and that's if Clarissa Meadows turns up alive. His kills have been boy, girl, boy. Until we find out what happened to Clarissa Meadows, we have no idea what may have caused him to change his MO again."

Rossi pondered what his friend was saying. "What do you think?"

Hotch shook his head. "Reid may have been right when he said the BAU's presence is this guy's stressor. But I can't help feeling that wanting the BAU here is not this Unsub's only reason. But why target Morgan? What does he hope to gain?"

"What is your gut telling you?"

"That his targeting Morgan is a ploy to throw us off the track just as killing Gannon and Carstairs the same day was. Everything this Unsub has done since we've been here has been for a reason, Dave. But still, I can't dismiss this threat against Morgan."

"And you won't. But right now we have to figure out if Clarissa Meadows is another victim of this bastard. And you're already taking steps to keep Morgan safe by assigning someone to be with him at all times. But you know Morgan. He's not gonna take kindly to being treated with kid gloves just because he's been targeted. Hell, you saw how he reacted when you assigned Emily to keep an eye on 'im. You're doing everything you can short of locking him in a bank vault for safe keeping until it's time for us to go home. There's only so much you can do, Aaron."

Hotch looked at his friend. "But what if it's not enough, Dave?"

Rossi smiled at his friend. Hotch always acted as the weight of the entire world was on his shoulders. "But it will be. Take my word for it. We won't let him get to Morgan and we will catch this bastard. Aaron, you don't have to do this on your own. We're all here with you. Trust me when I say we will not let anything happen to Morgan." He draped an affectionate arm around Hotch's shoulders and grinned. "Now, since neither of us are really that hungry, how about I accompany you to the police station?"

Hotch let a small smile appear. He always felt better when he spoke to Dave Rossi. He could discuss his inner-most demons with the man who knew him and everything about him. "Thanks, Dave," he added.

* * *

Armitage sat in a far booth of the coffee shop enjoying a leisurely breakfast, but close enough where he could watch the people of interest. He realized he was taking a risk being here, and hoped the disguise he wore was adequate enough. As he drank from his coffee cup, he studied the seated forms of Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid, and Derek Morgan. He smirked seeing the look of anger on Morgan's face which he suspected would be the agent's reaction to being threatened. _Well, you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs anyway,_ he thought. He didn't give a damn about Derek Morgan.

His eyes shifted when somebody else entered the coffee shop, and a slow smile appeared. David Rossi and Aaron Hotchner walked right past his table without so much as a glance in his direction, and joined the four agents but didn't sit at the table. Hotchner stood talking to the others, while Rossi walked to the counter, and spoke with the waitress behind it. But he focused on the dark-haired man. To him, Hotchner looked worried judging by those frown lines, and that suited him just fine.

"You okay, Hotch?" JJ asked, worry on her pretty face.

"I will be once we catch this guy," Hotch replied. He put on his stoic face before he and Rossi had entered the coffee shop. He didn't want his team worried about him; it wasn't their job. It was his to worry about them. "Dave and I are going to head to the precinct." He glanced over when Rossi reappeared with two Styrofoam coffee cups.

"Hotch, why don't you and Rossi have a seat and have breakfast first?" asked Morgan. "I mean, the evidence will hold long enough to at least have something to eat."

"Dave and I will grab something from the machine when we get to the precinct," Hotch replied as a sudden chill permeated his entire body. The subtle change in his expression didn't escape the others.

"What's wrong?" asked Prentiss, worried, knowing her boss would deny anything was wrong. But she had to ask. "Hotch?"

"Nothing," Hotch said quickly. He looked at Rossi. "Let's go."

The others didn't speak until their teammates had left the shop.

"For a few minutes Hotch looked like somebody had walked over his grave," Emily replied taking a drink of coffee.

"I think this case is getting to him," JJ added. "Even more now that Morgan's been targeted. I mean, we don't know why he has or why the Unsub has changed his MO again. Add to that we still don't know what happened to Clarissa Meadows."

"It's more than that," Morgan chimed in with a shake of his head. The others looked at him for clarification. "I have no idea what. But trust me when I say something's eating at him."

"What's wrong, Spence?" JJ asked, blue eyes looking at the man she considered a younger brother.

Reid awoke as if from a dream. "I just realized something," he said, hazel eyes alive with excitement.

"Well, you gonna keep it to yourself or let us in on it?" asked Morgan.

"Hear me out before you say anything," Reid continued, animated now. "That letter sent to Morgan. It never mentioned Morgan by name. It said and I quote: 'I am watching you. Soon. Very, very soon we will meet,' whereas the one to Thomas Gannon said 'I am watching you. Soon, Thomas, soon.' It's like night and day."

"He's right," JJ remarked. "The Unsub never mentioned Morgan by name. If it hadn't been left under his door, that letter could have been meant for anybody."

"What do you suppose it means?" asked Prentiss. Everybody looked at Reid for the answer, and the genius didn't disappoint.

"What it means is that the Unsub is trying to throw us off the trail again by making us believe he's going after Morgan next when he's not. He wants us to be distracted."

"Distracted from what?" asked JJ. "Looking for him?"

"No. He wants us to be distracted from seeing who the next target really is. He wants to catch us off guard."

"Who's his next target, kid?" Morgan was puzzled.

"I have no idea. But think about it," Reid continued. "He stepped up his killing time to lure the BAU here to help investigate. Everything he's done since we've been here is for our benefit. He wanted us here. We are the reason he changed his MO. We are the reason he left a letter threatening Morgan which didn't specify him in any way, other than his name being on the envelope. He's after somebody on this team and is purposely trying to throw us off the scent by leaving that letter for Morgan."

"How do you know he's after somebody on the team?" asked Prentiss, still confused.

"It's the only thing which makes sense," said Reid. "If he really wanted to target Morgan, he would have mentioned him in the body of the letter same as he did Thomas Gannon. The wording of the letters is nearly identical."

The others exchanged worried looks. Then as a group, they got to their feet and left the coffee shop, passing by the now empty booth in the rear of the shop.

* * *

Armitage sat in his cab parked outside the coffee shop sipping a cup of coffee. Despite the disguise, he didn't want to risk being seen and maybe recognized. And while Hotchner was the one who had seen his face years ago. He didn't want to take a chance he might remember him. He was too close to capturing his prize, and would let nothing get in his way. Nothing or nobody. Out of the corner of his eye, the door of the coffee shop opened, and he pulled his cap a little lower to conceal his face. The four agents hurried outside and headed toward their SUV parked in front of his cab. He smirked watching the agents hurry toward their vehicle oblivious to his presence only a few feet away from them.

Earlier, he had seen Hotchner and Rossi leave in a separate SUV suspecting they were taking the letter to the police precinct and have it dusted for prints. He chuckled knowing they would find none; he had made sure of that. Hotchner looked so worried about his subordinate. Now all he could do is wait. Everything was ready for Hotchner.

_Enjoy the precious hours you have left, Aaron. Enjoy them worrying about your Agent Morgan. When I'm ready, I guarantee you will never see it coming. _

* * *

Hotch and Rossi had barely walked through the door of the police precinct when Detective Parsons approached them. He seemed to be in a hurry and looked worried. The two agents exchanged troubled looks. Something had happened.

"Agent Hotchner. Agent Rossi. I was just about to call you," Parsons explained.

"What's happened?" as Hotch.

"We received a tip about ten minutes ago. A jogger found Clarissa Meadows' body while on an early-morning run this morning."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Rossi and Hotch walked on either side of Detective Parsons as the trio walked along a worn path leading into the park near the public high school. The men ducked beneath the yellow crime scene tape and continued walking. Hotch sighed and looked at Rossi. He just about had time to hurry inside and hand an officer the evidence bags containing the letter and envelope with instructions to have both checked for prints. He hurried to join the others who waited for him outside the SUV.

"You said an early morning jogger found the body?" asked Rossi glancing at Parsons.

"Yeah. But he didn't see anybody if that's what you're going to ask me next."

"Strange area of the park to dump a body," Hotch observed. "The Unsub took a big risk bringing and dumping a body here. From the looks of this path, it's often used by foot traffic. He risked running into joggers or others using this same path."

"It is," Parsons explained. "It's used often by civilians and students alike and not just for jogging. A lot of the students in the high school use it as a shortcut to and from the school." He stopped when they reached their location. The detective stared at the upper half of the young woman's body leaning against a tree as if in a partial seated position. The lower half lay, spread-eagled, on the ground at an angle, as if tossed there like trash. He had hoped Clarissa Meadows would be found alive.

"Same as the others," Rossi commented, hands on hips staring at the body. He glanced at Hotch who hadn't uttered a word since they saw the body, and wondered what was on the man's mind. "Aaron? You all right?"

The dark-haired man looked at his friend. "I will be when we catch this sick bastard." As Hotch studied the body, he glanced at Rossi. "It was something JJ said to me. She asked how could I look at the parents I spoke with, and tell them I believe their missing child is alive when in my heart I knew they were probably dead."

"We all hope the same thing when we interview parents. We have to give them and ourselves something to hold onto."

"I realize that. But from the moment Clarissa Meadows went missing, my gut kept telling me the Unsub had her. I knew she was dead the entire time." He exhaled and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I feel like I lied to JJ."

"The way this Unsub's escalated since we've been here, that's not surprising. You didn't lie. We have to accept that innocent people are gonna die and that we can't save everybody."

Hotch crouched beside the body. He frowned at the expression of horror forever etched on Clarissa's face because of the torture she endured at the hands of the Unsub. Hotch grieved as he looked at the damage done to the young woman. Every time he thought he had seen the worst that a part of humanity subjected the innocent to, he still found himself amazed. He mulled over what he would tell the Meadows family.

* * *

The rest of the team walked inside the police station, and right away sensed something had happened.

"What's going on?" asked Prentiss.

"I'll see if I can find out," JJ said before she hurried off to speak with the nearest uniformed officer leaving the others alone. She came back a few minutes later looking grim. "Clarissa Meadows' body was discovered a few minutes ago. Hotch and Rossi went to the crime scene with Detective Parsons." There was silence among the other profilers for a few minutes until Reid broke the silence.

"At least the Unsub is sticking to his MO," he said. He then looked at Morgan. "I'm not saying you need to worry, Derek. I'm just reminding you we all need to keep on our toes now. This Unsub's killed another woman. And if my hypothesis is correct, and I don't doubt that it is, it's a safe bet our next victim will be a male."

"What about your belief that the next victim will be somebody on this team?" asked JJ. "I mean, we have four males on this team. You, Morgan, Hotch and Rossi."

Reid remained calm on the outside; but inside, he was a bit nervous. "Then I suggest the rest of us will have to be on our toes."

"Unless…." Prentiss began. "This is the Unsub's intention. To get us believing the next male victim is one of our own, so we'll be distracted enough when he grabs somebody off the street."

"It would be the perfect means," JJ agreed with a shake of her head.

"Then I say let's give him what he wants," Morgan added.

"What are you talking about?" asked Emily afraid of the answer.

"He wants us to believe that I'm the next target. I say let's use that to our advantage. I can make myself available as bait to lure this guy out of hiding."

"Forget it!" Prentiss stated. "Are you out of your mind? Hotch would never go along with that to begin with."

Morgan sighed. "Look, we don't have many options left. We lost our only two suspects, and we haven't found anybody else that even comes close to meeting the profile. I, for one, don't see us having any other choice."

Prentiss found herself staring at Morgan fuming with his somewhat cavalier attitude. "Forget it. You are not gonna play cowboy. And I, for one, do not want to have to explain to Garcia how you purposely risked your life again." She saw her words had struck a cord with the agent. "Or did you forget New York?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

Morgan's stance softened. He recalled how upset his baby girl was when he drove an ambulance carrying a bomb into Central Park in New York which had been parked inside a hospital.(1)

JJ folded her arms across her chest. "Why don't we let Hotch decide what options we do or don't have before you run off and play hero."

* * *

Jason Armitage stood back and smiled. The secret room was in order awaiting Aaron Hotchner's arrival. The aluminum table and his knives were clean; even the crowbar had been wiped clean of stains. After all, he didn't want his guest to get an infection and die before he killed him. Also, he intended to take his time with Hotchner. He wanted to savor every moment with the profiler. He hugged himself as he dreamt of all the things he wanted to do to the agent before he killed him. To conquer the almighty Aaron Hotchner was his goal and in less than forty-eight hours, he would have him.

Hotchner had been a problem for more than ten years, and it was time the man paid for what he did to him. He had never forgiven the man for prosecuting him when Hotchner was with the district attorney's office. How dare he prosecute him for killing the man who killed Armitage's son while letting the guilty man himself go free. And when he held Hotchner prisoner last time, the agent explained that there was no proof the man Armitage believed guilty was responsible. But Armitage didn't believe him. Hotchner was just covering for his own incompetence. So, he took matters into his own hands and killed the man himself. But his own incarceration wasn't the only fallout he suffered. The death of their child had led to the death of Armitage's wife.(2) Payback was the one thing which kept him alive and fueled his rage at the FBI agent throughout the years.

He though he had Hotchner years ago when he locked him in a house and set it on fire leaving the man restrained on a bed. If it hadn't been for Agents Rossi and Morgan, Hotchner would have perished in the fire. But they got the man out just before the entire house became engulfed. "If you had just done your job, Aaron," Armitage said aloud to nobody. "All you had to do was your job and you wouldn't be in this predicament. it's all your fault." He chuckled. "And I am going to be your judge, jury and executioner." He ground his lower jaw. "And mark my words, this time you will not escape your punishment."

* * *

Reid, Morgan, Prentiss and JJ, seated around the conference table, had been going over their information. After about an hour, the door opened, and Hotch and Rossi walked in looking grim.

"We heard about Clarissa Meadows," JJ said, her blue eyes focused on her boss's stoic face. Hotch nodded. The blond could see the familiar haunted look in his dark brown eyes. "Hotch, you can't blame yourself," she added. "We suspected the Unsub may have had her the moment she went missing. "You keep blaming yourself for everybody we can't save, you're going to burn yourself out like Gideon."

"I'll be all right," Hotch replied in a tone indicating the discussion about his feelings was finished. But his eyebrows arched when JJ, smiling, handed him a paper bag same time Emily handed one to Rossi.

"What's this?" asked Hotch as he opened his.

"Well, since you and Rossi skipped breakfast, JJ and I decided to bring you both something back from the coffee shop," Emily grinned.

"We got Rossi coffee and a buttered bagel. And for you, coffee and a croissant."

"So both of you, shut up and eat," Prentiss smirked.

Rossi and Hotch both sat down at the table. "Guess we've been outnumbered," Hotch told his best friend before taking a bite of his croissant.

"I agree," Rossi kidded. "Facing an angry JJ and Emily is one thing. But with an empty stomach, not advisable." He took a bite of the bagel and smiled.

"Any news on the items I turned over for a fingerprint check?" Hotch asked between bites of his pastry.

"Just as you said, Hotch," Morgan explained. "There weren't any. Unsub must've worn gloves."

"Well, you gotta admit one thing," Rossi began as he sat between Morgan and JJ. "This guy's organized and professional in carrying out everything while leaving us nothing."

"Except bodies," Emily commented with a shake of her head.

Hotch, taking a drink of hot coffee, sensed the team wasn't telling him something.

"What's going on?" he asked looking at each one except Rossi.

Prentiss, JJ, and Reid exchanged troubled looks and avoided their boss's face.

"I'm waiting," Hotch insisted. "Prentiss?"

Emily looked into Hotch's face and found the man staring at her with a look that would wilt an artificial plant. She bit her lower lip. "Morgan wants us to use him as bait to lure this guy out into the open. We told him…"

"Absolutely not!" Hotch interrupted her, his stare now on Morgan. "I do not want you to put yourself in any danger on purpose, Morgan. We will find this guy."

Morgan let out a deep breath. "I know we will, Hotch. But if he wants me, let's give him easy access to me. I can wear a wire and have a tracking device hidden on me. That way you guys can…"

"I said forget it," Hotch replied a bit harsher than he planned. He wasn't about to risk a member of his team to this lunatic. His face softened. "But thank you for the offer. Now, is there anything else we should know?"

The others told him of Reid's belief that the letter left for Morgan was a decoy. Hotch's eyebrows arched as did Rossi's.

"So you believe the letter left for Morgan was a ploy by the Unsub to distract us from his real target?" asked Rossi. "Am I understanding this correctly?"

"Not only that," Reid interjected. "But I believe somebody else on this team may be the real target."

"Any idea who that somebody else might be if it's not Morgan?" asked Hotch staring at his youngest agent.

"Unfortunately no," Reid replied. "But based on his predisposition to killing men followed by women, it's safe to say his next target will be a male. And if that holds true, that leaves you, Morgan, Rossi, and me as possible targets."

Rossi sighed. "Interesting hypothesis if true," Rossi wrapped his arms around himself. His eyes landed on Reid. "But that still leaves us with why Morgan got a letter, and not me, Hotch, or you. Just Morgan."

Reid crossed his long legs. "It's possible the Unsub believes that by leaving letters for each of the males on this team, it would put all of us on high alert. And he doesn't want that. But by singling out one of us, he believes we would rally around that one man to protect him at all cost, thus exposing the others. If he sent each of us a letter, we would all be on guard."

"As good as your theory is, Reid," Hotch explained. "I still can't justify using Morgan as bait. It's just possible our Unsub may want us to use Morgan as a way of getting to him." Hotch reached inside his jacket pocket hearing his cell vibrating. He checked the caller ID, and pressed a button. "You're on speaker, Garcia."

"Boss man, you asked me to let you know if I had any luck checking on who may have purchased Dahlias online."

"What did you find?" Hotch asked, his interest now peaked.

"That's just it, sir. I have a list so far of so far of eighty people who have purchased said flower in the past six months. Can you give me more to narrow down the search somehow?"

"Yeah, pretty mama. Check for people who have purchased either these flowers or bulbs within the last six months since moving to Santa Barbara," said Morgan.

"And Garcia…" Hotch interjected. "Include in that anyone who has bought these plants or bulbs in excess. Leave out anybody who bought one or two at a time. Our Unsub would have to have a supply of these flowers at his disposal.

"That's it," Garcia added, fingers flying over the keyboard. "Give me some more."

"Garcia…" Reid added. "Concentrate of those who only bought Dahlias in white and pink."

They could hear the tech analyst's fingers typing away on her keyboard. "I'll be back in a flash with the 411," she said before disconnecting the call. Hotch returned the phone to his pocket. He pressed a napkin to his mouth after finishing his croissant. "What else do we have so far?"

"That's about it," Morgan sighed watching his Unit Chief. "What happened at the crime scene? We heard that Clarissa Meadows' body had been found but no details."

Rossi took a gulp of coffee. "Not much to tell. Her murder was same as the others. The Unsub did a real number on her."

"She had been beaten about the head and face with a blunt instrument," Hotch continued. "There were many cuts and stab wounds. Gouges of flesh were missing. All the injuries which were present with Shannon Carstairs were present with Clarissa Meadows." Hotch then glanced at the blond. "JJ, I'll speak with the Meadows family this time," he said.

JJ smiled at her boss's offer. "If it's okay with you, I'd rather be the one to tell them."

"You don't have to."

"Yeah, I do." Her blue eyes met his brown ones and an unspoken message passed between them. Hotch nodded. He left out a deep breath. "We also found a crushed pink Dahlia beneath the lower half of her torso."

"But there was one thing different though," Rossi added, eyes narrowing. "With the other bodies, both halves were tossed like trash with the lower halves spread-eagled to give the impression of a sexual assault. With Clarissa Meadows, the upper half of her body was in a seated position, almost like it was placed there with the utmost care. The lower half, while lying spread-eagled, appeared to have been arranged instead of simply tossed like the others."

"Sounds like he took extra care with this victim," remarked Prentiss. "But why?"

"Could it be he knew her?" asked JJ.

"Maybe Clarissa Meadows reminded him of somebody he loved and lost?" asked Morgan. "Or maybe somebody he's working his way up to somebody with these kills."

"We didn't work any of that into the profile," Hotch interjected as he looked at his team. He crossed his arms. "We might have to rethink this entire profile. We're missing something."

* * *

Armitage leaned back in his recliner with a glass of red wine, staring out the window at the sun shining high over the trees. A slow smile appeared on his face. Everything was ready now. He knew his long-awaited dream of destroying the great Aaron Hotchner would soon come to fruition. As he closed his eyes, he imagined what he would do the minute he had Hotchner in the secret room.

He would use all his tools of torture on the man. He would not rush through what had to be done, because he wanted to savor everything. The man's screams would be music to his ears. Screams from the beatings, cuttings and gouging. The others had all screamed and so would the agent. And in the end, he would use the machete, and sever the man in half at the waist. He would enjoy hearing Hotchner's screams as his blood sprayed everywhere.

Armitage took a sip of his wine and smiled. He couldn't wait for the big moment. While it was good to relax, even he had to admit he was impatient. Impatient because he couldn't wait to grab Hotchner and get started. But now was not the time to rush things. To rush led to mistakes, and he was too close to reaching his goal to make a mistake now. He shifted in his chair and got more comfortable. No, he would somehow keep himself occupied and let things take their natural course.

* * *

The team sat around the table going over the information they had on the four murders hoping to find something they may have overlooked. Reid was busy at the board making a notation of where the latest body had been found. JJ was not with them, as she had gone into the outer room to phone the Meadows family and inform them of their daughter's death. Hotch held the evidence bag containing the envelope in his hand, staring at it, hoping to trigger his memory. If he could force himself to remember where he had seen the lettering.

Rossi glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eye. "Has that envelope talked back to you yet?"

Hotch looked at Rossi as if seeing him for the first time. "What?"

"You keep staring at that envelope like you expect it to talk back to you."

"I'm hoping if I look at it long enough, I'll remember where I've seen it before."

"Is it helping?"

"No." Hotch tossed the bag on the table in frustration. "It's just…I just have a feeling if I could remember where I've seen it before, it might help find the Unsub. I can't tell you why I feel this way, and I can't explain it, Dave." He looked at Rossi. The older man smiled. "It'll come to you, Aaron, when you least expect it."

Hotch exhaled through his nose and picked up the bag again. "I just wish I knew if we have the time for me to remember, Dave."

* * *

(1) Mayhem, Season 4.

(2) Mistaken Identities written by me, HotchRocks.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. Couldn't get it the way I wanted.**

**Chapter 11**

The team sat around the conference table going over the little information they had on the death of Clarissa Meadows, when the door opened, and JJ walked into the room. Hotch looked into her blue eyes.

"You all right?" he asked the blond. He understood his media liaison felt deeply for the families of murder victims. But since becoming a parent herself, she seemed to feel it a lot more. He also understood it being a father himself.

"I will be," she assured her boss. "I just feel so badly for the Meadows family. They wanted to come and identify their daughter to be sure it was her, but I advised them not to come. We had a photo of Clarissa, and I added we would use dental records to confirm her identity. I told them they wouldn't want to remember her this way."

"No parent should have to see their child like that," Emily stated with compassion.

"No they shouldn't," Hotch agreed grimly. He let out a deep breath. "Okay, any ideas as to why our Unsub seemed to show a modicum of caring when he dumped Clarissa Meadows body?"

"Like Rossi said before, he might have known her from somewhere," said Prentiss.

"Perhaps she reminded him of somebody he loved and lost," said Morgan.

"But if she reminded him of somebody he loved and lost…" began Hotch. "Then why kill Clarissa at all? If he lost the love of his life, he might kidnap Clarissa, but why kill her?"

"Depends on how he lost her," Rossi chimed in crossing his arms over his chest. "If she betrayed him somehow making him angry, he could have killed Clarissa because she reminded him of what he lost."

"But he might also be working his way up to getting the confidence to go after the object of his hatred," JJ added.

"Then why kill the others?" asked Morgan. "Why not just go after whoever made him angry enough to start killing?'

Hotch tapped his pen against the open file in front of him. "It's possible he may not have the nerve to confront the object of his anger yet. But we need to understand why although he brutally murdered Clarissa Meadows, he still showed compassion when he dumped her body. If we can figure that out, it might give us an idea who we're looking for."

"And we still have no idea how he gets close enough to his victims to use his taser to restrain them," said JJ.

"What it shows is we really don't know this Unsub at all," Rossi admitted. "Even though his kills are the same, he always does something different with each one to throw us off track. We're gonna have to rethink the entire profile."

"I may have something," Reid announced from behind Hotch, standing at the white board. The others turned their heads to look at their young genius. "Okay, here is where the first three bodies were found," Reid explained as he drew a circle around the three locations. "And here is where Clarissa Meadows' body was found." He drew an 'X'. The 'X' was just outside and to the left of the circle.

"He's moved outside his comfort zone," Hotch commented with knitted eyebrows.

"Not just outside his comfort zone," Reid was quick to point out. With his marker, he drew a straight line from the circle to the X, and from the X to the drawing of a building and circled it twice. "I believe he's moving his comfort zone as he becomes more confident and daring with his kills."

"Reid, what's that building you circled?" asked Morgan.

Reid looked at all his friends. "That building is this police station."

Hotch's eyes shifted up to the agent. "Reid, are you saying the Unsub is expanding his comfort zone to now include this police station? Is that what I'm hearing?"

Reid chewed his lower lip. "Not exactly. I think he's trying to tell us from where he's gonna get his next victim." He and the others all looked at Morgan.

"Why's everybody staring at me?" Morgan asked looking around at his friends. "Look, we all agreed that because this guy didn't name me in his letter, that he could be trying to draw attention from the real target."

"That may be," JJ said. "But you're the one who got the letter whether you were named or not."

"He's right," Hotch interjected. The others looked at him. "Morgan may have gotten the letter, but any one of us could be his next target."

"But we agree his next victim will be a male," said Prentiss with a look at Hotch. She tossed a few strands of hair over her shoulder. "That puts you, Rossi and Reid in just as much danger as Morgan."

"But we can't ignore you and JJ either," Rossi added. "This Unsub has changed his MO so many times his next victim could just as easily be a woman."

Just then Morgan's cell phone vibrated. He checked the caller ID and pressed a button. He held the phone in his hand.

"Go ahead, baby girl. You're on speaker."

"Hey, my brave crime fighters, I may I have something," Garcia explained sounding enthusiastic. "Remember when you asked me to go back six months and see who might have bought white and pink Dahlias in bulk online?"

"What did you find, Garcia?" asked Hotch.

"Well, at first I had eighty people who had bought either Dahlias or the bulbs. But using the limits you gave me, I managed to reduce the list to about thirty-five. I then went over the same names again, and narrowed it down to as they say in college basketball during March Madness, the final four. Ten stopped ordering completely online a month ago. Five died within the last three months. Six moved out of the state. And nine others stopped ordering Dahlia bulbs two months ago and switched to roses."(1)

"Do you have the names and addresses for the four who still order them?" asked Morgan.

"How can you even ask such a thing, my dark knight in shining armor. I have sent the names and addresses to your phones with super speed."

Morgan chuckled. "Thanks gorgeous."

"Anytime. Be safe my loves." The call ended.

Hotch checked his phone scanning the names and addresses. "Morgan, you and Prentiss check out the first address. Dave, you and Reid take the second; JJ, you and I will take the third and fourth. We all meet back here in about three hours." Everybody got up and prepared to head out on their assignments. "I'm sure I don't need to remind everybody to be extra vigilant." His eyes focused on Morgan. "I'm also sure I need not remind you not to go anywhere unless Prentiss is with you."

Morgan stood in the doorway and rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Hotch."

"I mean it, Morgan," Hotch warned his subordinate. "One step out of line and you're restricted to the police station. I'm not taking any chances that you just might be the Unsub's true target."

Prentiss faced Morgan and jabbed him in the chest with a finger. "And if you don't believe Hotch, mister, you better believe me when I say I will squeal to Garcia. And you know what her reaction will be."

Morgan winced. "Ow. That's a low blow, Prentiss," he kidded.

"Yeah, well, you just remember it," Prentiss reminded her friend. She looked at her boss who stood behind them. "Request permission to shoot him myself if he acts up, sir?"

Hotch and Rossi smirked. "You better listen to her, Morgan," Rossi kidded. "Besides, Garcia probably knows over a hundred places to hide a body where it wouldn't be found."

Morgan shook his head as he followed the others out the door.

* * *

Jason Armitage kept himself busy in his secret room with a final check to make sure everything was ready. The day after tomorrow was the day for which he had waited ten years. He picked up the taser from the table, and checked it, finding it fully charged. He grinned when he thought of how Aaron would never see it coming until it was too late. He made a mental note to remind himself to get gas for the truck and the cab. It wouldn't do to be out of gasoline when the time came.

It was risky to grab Hotchner outside the police station; but anything this important was worth the risk. That was why he left the Meadows woman's body where he did. It was close to the police station. And if he understood Hotchner and his team, they had probably figured out by now that his next victim would come from the police station. He would enjoy taking Hotchner right from under the BAU's noses. The only thing he had to figure out still was how to lure him outside the police station alone. After a few minutes, a slow smile spread over his face as an idea came to him. What better way to lure Hotchner outside alone than a threat to a member of his team other than Derek Morgan? There were two beautiful women on his team. One of them would do nicely as the bait. But who should he choose?

The dark-haired woman was certainly a looker. Agent Emily Prentiss. That black hair. Those brown eyes. But she also had the look of a tigress. One who can defend herself probably quite well, and wary of people she didn't trust. Not that he wasn't certain he could take her in a face-to-face confrontation. But he didn't need somebody who would be extremely difficult thus delaying him. And timing was everything in springing his trap.

Now the blond was a different matter. Agent Jennifer Jareau. She also was a looker with those bright blue eyes and long blond hair. He had to admit one thing, Hotchner certainly had excellent taste in women. Unlike the brunette, the blond looked like the less dangerous of the two. Somebody who looked trusting. And that is what he needed; somebody who can be manipulated without much difficulty. It was too bad he had to disappear after disposing of Hotchner, and could not hang around long enough to grab another woman. Jennifer would have been perfect. There was no doubt in his mind she was a screamer. He might even have strayed from his MO and had a little 'fun' with her before killing her. But there would be no time for fun and games. Escape was the primary goal afterwards. Too bad. His smile widened. Yes, she would do nicely as the bait.

"A little more than twenty-four hours, Aaron," he said with a chuckle. "A little more than twenty-four hours and you and I will met for the final time. And I can guarantee you this time I will have my revenge."

But first he would have a bit of fun. He removed his prepaid cell phone from his pocket, pushed several buttons, and pressed the phone to his ear. It rang twice before there was a pickup on the other end.

"Santa Barbara police department," a young male voice said.

"Yes. May I speak to someone with the FBI? I have information on the murders. I think I know who the killer might be."

"I'm sorry, sir. But all members of the FBI are not here right now. But you can give me the info and I'll pass it on to them." There was excitement in the officer's voice.

_Sure you will, _Armitage thought. He disconnected the call without another word. He didn't need any surprises now. _So, Aaron and his team are out. Something must be happening and I need to try and find out what. I think it's time to take a drive to the police station._ Pursing his lips, he hurried upstairs, grabbed his car keys, and opened the driver's side door of the yellow cab.

* * *

A grim-faced Detective Parsons entered the building not wanting to talk with anyone and hide in his office. This last murder really got to him. He neared his office when he saw a young uniformed officer gesture to him. With an annoyed sigh, he walked over to the front desk. "What is it, Franklin? I'm not in a very good mood right now."

"Just thought you'd want to know. While you were out, I got a phone call from somebody who said he had information about the murders. He said he thought he knew who the killer was. He asked to speak with someone from the FBI."

Parsons appeared to perk up a bit when he heard this news. "Did you transfer the call to one of the feds?"

"They all left her a short while ago. I told him I could take the information but he hung up without saying anything. Sorry."

"Damn!" Parsons swore. Any hope of solving the case, arresting the perpetrator, and sending the feds home was gone. He looked at the officer again. "You said the BAU went out a short time ago?"

"Yes, sir."

"Any idea where they went?"

"No, sir. But they left in kind of a hurry."

"I'll be in my office. Let me know when they return."

"Yes, sir."

Parsons spun on his heels and marched straight to his office and slammed the door. He collapsed in his chair behind his desk and snatched the receiver of his desk phone. "This is Detective Parsons. I want to speak with Doctor Barlow. I'll hold." A few minutes went by before the medical examiner was on the phone. "Ken, Detective Parsons here. Listen, I know you haven't started the autopsy yet, but is there anything you can tell me from a preliminary examination at least?"

On the other end of the phone, Barlow let out a deep breath. "Cause of death is probably the same as the others. I'll know more after I complete the autopsy. But I can tell you this much at least. She sustained a beating about the head and severe blood loss. I don't expect any surprises though. I'll let you know as soon as the autopsy's completed."

"Thanks, Ken," Parsons hung up the phone with a sigh. He ran both hands down his face. How this could be happening in his town? And even with the FBI here, they were no closer to catching this sadistic animal now than they were earlier. And though he would never say it, he wondered if the BAU being here was doing any good or making things worse.

* * *

Armitage parked his cab at the corner on the same side of the street at the police precinct. He quickly turned on the off duty sign so nobody would get inside his cab forcing him to leave before he saw what he came to see. He kept watch for about ninety minutes before he saw two members of Hotchner's team get out of their SUV, and walk toward the police station. The duo didn't seen very happy, so he assumed wherever they went, the results were not what they expected. That brought an amused grin to his face.

"Y'know, Reid, I know we have to follow up on every lead to get a handle on this guy, but this visit was a waste of time."

"I disagree," Reid replied enthusiastically. "It was fascinating learning how both Doctor and Mrs. Garrison grow Dahlias expressly for scientific reasons and for the inulin. I mean, in Europe and the United States prior to 1923, and the discovery of insulin, diabetics were often given something called Atlantic starch or diabetic sugar which was derived from inulin."

"Really?" Rossi asked not really interested but not wanting to be rude.

"Yes. And inulin is a naturally occurring form of fruit sugar extracted from Dahlia tubers. In fact, did you know inulin is still used in clinical tests for kidney functionality?" The excitement overcame him completely. The two men stopped on the top step of the police station. Rossi, now exasperated, looked at the younger agent.

"Reid, don't take this the wrong way. But I really don't care."

Reid looked puzzled. "Why not? What they're doing is of great scientific importance."

"To you definitely. But to us mere mortals, growing Dahlias for scientific research has nothing to do with our Unsub. I only hope Morgan and Prentiss, or Hotch and JJ had better luck." The older man opened the door of the precinct and walked inside with Reid behind him.

Armitage watched the two men disappear inside the precinct and let out a deep breath. He understood he couldn't stay off duty indefinitely. After another hour had passed by, he decided it was too risky to stay where he was. He changed his off duty sign to on duty, pulled away from the curb, and headed down the street passing the police station. As he did so, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan walking towards the precinct. He kept going when he noticed Prentiss turn her head towards his cab for a few seconds.

"That's it," she said to Morgan as she watched the cab disappear around the corner.

"What's it?" asked Morgan.

"I think I know how the Unsub gets close to his victims without arousing their suspicions."

Morgan stared at his partner this time. "How?"

"He drives a taxicab."

* * *

(1)March Madness is the name given to that time of the year when fans watch the NCAA(National Collegiate Athletic Association) men's basketball championship tournament.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Morgan stared at Prentiss with narrowed eyes. "You sure?" he asked looking at his partner.

Prentiss nodded. "Think about it, Derek. Unless you have your own means of transportation, you have to rely on public transportation. I remember JJ saying that when she spoke with Clarissa Meadows' parents, they said Clarissa told them she was taking a cab to their house." She looked at her partner. "We need to check and see if Thomas Gannon, Shannon Carstairs, or Anthony Barstow used taxis to get where they needed to go." She hurried up the steps and inside the police precinct with Morgan right behind her. They found Rossi and Reid in the conference room. Reid was going over a file while Rossi was relaxing and drinking a cup of coffee. The older man looked up when the door opened, and saw Prentiss' face.

"What happened?" he asked, concerned.

"Hotch and JJ not back yet?" Emily asked. Rossi shook his head. "Damn," she muttered under her breath. Her utterance got Reid to turn toward at the woman.

"What's going on?" asked Rossi.

"We think we figured out how the Unsub is getting close to his victims and gaining their trust," Morgan explained. "He drives a taxi."

"A taxi?" asked Reid. "You sure?"

"Consider this. Not everybody owns a car and has to rely on cabs or buses to get around town. Our last victim's parents told JJ their daughter was taking a cab to get to their place after she finished shopping. What if the other victims also had to rely on taxicabs?"

"There's one way to find out," Rossi replied reaching for his cell phone. He put the phone to his ear.

"Office of the all-knowing technical goddess of internet knowledge. Speak and be heard, mortal."

"Garcia, I need you to run a check for me on our three prior victims; Thomas Gannon, Shannon Carstairs, and Anthony Barstow. Find out if any of them used a taxi to get to work, school, run errands, etc. Get back to me when you find something."

"Aye, aye. Back in a flash like lightening. Garcia out." Rossi then placed another call.

"JJ? Rossi. Listen, we may have something. When Emily and Morgan were returning from their interview, Emily saw a taxicab, and remembered that Clarissa Meadows was taking a cab to her parents house when she was abducted. So she began to wonder, what if the others used taxis as well? I already have Garcia checking. How are things on your end?" Rossi chuckled at whatever JJ was saying. "Catch you later." He returned the phone to his jacket pocket and looked up at Prentiss and Morgan.

"How are Hotch and JJ making out with their interviews?" asked Morgan collapsing onto a chair.

"They are on their way to the second interview. The first one took a bit longer than planned. First, the interviewees were Max and Sophie Masters, both in their late sixties. They had their fifteen-year-old grandchildren visiting them, both girls. JJ said Hotch had trouble with the interview because both girls kept making eyes at him the entire time. Even his famous glare didn't discourage them. I heard Hotch grumbling in the background. She figures they should be back here in about two hours."

Prentiss found herself laughing. "You mean the famous Hotchner stare didn't work? I'm shocked."

"Haven't you heard, Princess," Morgan smirked. "That stare only works on males, not on women. With females it just turns 'em on more."

Prentiss rolled her eyes. "Oh pul-eeze," she snorted. "Spoken like a typical male…"

"Don't even say it, Prentiss," Morgan warned with a flash of his white teeth.

"Chauvinist," Prentiss concluded.

Rossi chuckled. "Play nice children," he kidded. "How 'bout you and Morgan fill us in on your interview? Anything useful?"

Prentiss sat beside Morgan and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "The Max and Sam Howell we interviewed turned out to be Maxine and Samantha Howell."

"They've been growing Dahlias for years for entry into the annual flower shows. Have been for the past seven years," Morgan added.

"Besides that, they're both in their fifties," Prentiss said. "There's no way either of them can be our Unsub. And it doesn't sound like Max and Sophie Masters are either. I mean, both couples are too up in years to subdue a strong male even if a taser was used."

"Also, neither couple would be able to move a body even if it was cut in half," Morgan pointed out.

"How did you and Reid make out?"

Rossi nodded his head toward Reid. "Ask our youngest," he said.

"Hey, pretty boy…"

Reid looked up from his file reading. "What?" He noticed Rossi looking at him.

"Tell 'em about our interview," the older man requested.

Reid's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas day. "Our interviewees were Hector and Muriel Garrison; Doctor Hector Garrison. He and his wife grow Dahlias for scientific research."

"Research?" Morgan arched both eyebrows.

"They raise Dahlias so the inulin can be extracted from Dahlia tubers and…"

Morgan held up a hand. "That's enough. We don't want to know anymore."

Reid appeared puzzled as he looked around the room. "Doesn't anybody else but me find the scientific research done with Dahlias fascinating?"

"Nope," Prentiss replied with an amused grin as she, Morgan and Rossi proceeded to open file folders and began reading.

The vibrating of Rossi's phone interrupted their reading. The older man reached in his pocket, pulled out his cell and checked the caller ID. "Go ahead, Garcia. You're on speaker."

"Yes, sir. Thanks to the amazing capabilities of the one and only goddess of technology, I was able to get the info you wanted."

"We're waiting with bated breath, Garcia," Prentiss teased.

"Very funny, my raven-haired goddess."

"The info, Garcia," said Rossi.

"Yes, sir. According to my records, all three of our victims used taxis to get to and from their homes and wherever else they needed to go. Of the four, only Clarissa Meadows had her own car, but it was in for repairs the day she died."

The agents exchanged looks. "Garcia, did they all use the same cab company?" asked Reid.

"Hold on, let me check." The tech analyst's fingers flew over her keyboard. "Yes, my baby genius. All four of our dearly departed used the same company. The Canary Yellow Cab company. I sent their address to your phone"

"Thanks Garcia," Rossi said before disconnecting the phone. He looked at Prentiss and Morgan. "I want you two to head out to the cab company. It's possible our Unsub works for them. I'll let Hotch know what's going on."

Morgan looked at Prentiss as they both got to their feet and got the address from Rossi. They then hurried out of the door as Rossi put the phone again to his ear.

* * *

Armitage slammed his hand on the dashboard of his cab after he parked it outside his home. He was angry; angry at himself for being careless, and allowing the cab to be seen by Emily Prentiss. His was the only cab on the street at the time. If he hadn't decided at that moment to drive away, the agent would never have seen his cab. Now Hotchner would order a search for every yellow cab in town. Armitage had to calm down and think. One good thing was that the cab wasn't registered in his name; it belonged to one of his neighbors, Simon Fennier. Fennier only loaned it to Armitage so the man would be able to earn a few extra dollars. It was not like Armitage needed the money. He had plenty of his own. He really needed it to transport his victims without arousing suspicion. And nobody else was aware Armitage drove the cab three times a week.

A slow smile crossed his face. He would return the cab to Fennier. Then he would dispose of the man. This way it would appear as if he was the killer, and committed suicide after realizing the FBI was closing in on him. He was certain Fennier had told nobody about loaning Armitage his cab; afterall, the man was most unsociable except to him. Armitage was the only person with whom he seemed to get along. Probably because the two were so much alike. Trouble was, after he dumped the taxi, he would have to get another vehicle for his purposes, but that wouldn't be a problem.

* * *

Nearly two and a half hours later, Hotch and JJ entered the conference room to find Reid and Rossi the only ones there. Hotch wore a scowl on his face, and stared at the blond who was trying to hide the laughter threatening to erupt at any moment. Rossi looked up at Hotch.

"I understand you had girl trouble," Rossi smirked at his friend.

"Drop it, Dave," Hotch fumed. JJ was unable to contain herself any longer. Hotch glared at the blond.

"That wasn't the worst part," she said between chuckles.

"JJ," Hotch warned the woman.

"What happened?" asked Reid.

"Our second interview was with a Brenda Carpenter," JJ explained. "She was a nice woman confined to a wheelchair after an auto accident four years ago. Anyway, she has been growing Dahlias of all colors, in particular white and pink, for years. Her eleven-year-old daughter and fifteen-year-old niece were in the house and..."

"Wait, don't tell me…"Rossi interrupted with a smirk. "More girl trouble?"

"Dave, I'm warning you," Hotch growled.

"Yep," JJ added. "Hotch had two love-struck girls staring at him the entire time and the older one kept blowing kisses at him. It made him so uncomfortable I had to take them both from the living room so he could finish the interview."

The older man's laughter made Hotch's already red face turn a shade darker. Rossi saw his friend grinding his lower jaw. "I got the distinct impression it doesn't end there, does it?" he asked JJ.

"Nope. Once I got the girls upstairs so Hotch could continue, the oldest one started asking me questions about Hotch's vital statistics. I mean, she wanted to know everything." Hotch groaned. He realized his friends meant no harm with their teasing. From the corner of his eye, he saw his best friend had tears rolling down his face as he laughed out loud. Hotch shook his head in resignation. JJ noticed the young genius looked puzzled.

"You don't find it funny, Spence?"

"No. How could something embarrassing be funny?" he asked, thoroughly confused. "I mean, what's so funny…"

"I'll explain it to you later, kid," Rossi said between chuckles as he wiped his eyes. But he couldn't get the image of a fifteen-year-old blowing kisses at his friend out of his mind. He looked at Hotch who still wore a scowl. "We're sorry, Aaron. We didn't mean to laugh, but it is funny when you stop and think about it, my friend."

"Dave, you have no idea how distracting and embarrassing it is to try to conduct an interview with a teenage girl making eyes and blowing kisses at you the entire time."

JJ chortled and Hotch glared at her in warning.

"C'mon, Aaron. Loosen up a little. Look at it this way. It's probably the dimples that got 'em." Rossi burst out laughing again as did JJ.

Hotch shook his head and the corners of his mouth curled upward. After a few minutes, he composed himself. "Okay, you've all had your fun at my expense. Time to get back to work. Where are Morgan and Prentiss?"

"I sent them to the cab company," Rossi went on to explain what Garcia had found out during her research and the connection to their four victims.

"That's good work," Hotch replied. "If our Unsub drives a taxi, it will explain how he gets close to his victims, and why they're not afraid of him." He sighed with frustration despite the possible break in their case.

"What's wrong?" asked Rossi.

"We still have no idea where he's getting the Dahlias. We know he has to have a supply of them readily available especially with the increase of his kills."

Reid looked at his boss. "While you were out, one of Detective Parsons' men told us they have checked every florist shop in town, and nobody has reported selling Dahlias or the bulbs to anybody."

Just then the door opened and Detective Parsons entered the room. He did not appear happy. "Good. Most of you are here."

"We were following up a lead which didn't lead anywhere unfortunately," Hotch explained grimly. "Has something happened?"

"Yes." He then explained about the anonymous phone call.

"Sounds like our Unsub" said Rossi, clasping his hands together on top of the table.

"And if is was, he's either taunting us, or he's trying to lure us into a trap," Hotch added.

"Trap?"

"Yes." Hotch explained everything they had uncovered to Parsons including their latest belief about the yellow taxi.

"So you believe everything this guy's done so far has been to lure your team here?"

"We do. But we don't still haven't figured out why yet." Hotch didn't plan on telling Parsons about recognizing the block lettering on the envelope addressed to Morgan. The detective did not need to know that information.

"What about the phone call?" asked Parsons.

"We'll have out technical analyst in Quantico look into it," Hotch explained. "My guess? It'll probably be a prepaid cell phone. This man's been up to now, extremely careful."

"But we may be one step closer to finding him," Rossi added. "If our Unsub does drive a cab, we need to keep that fact from leaking out. Otherwise, he could take off before we can arrest him."

Parsons let out a deep breath. "Before I forget, I received a phone call from the medical examiner's office. The injuries sustained by Clarissa Meadows are the same as those suffered by the others. Also, no signs of sexual abuse. Cause-of-death was extreme blood loss, same as the others." JJ winced hearing the description. She felt as if she knew the young woman personally after speaking with her parents. "Sorry, ma'am," he apologized seeing her face. JJ smiled and nodded indicating it was all right. The detective noticed Hotch's expression. "You still think our guy knew her?"

"Yes. He showed a small amount of care with the way he displayed her body. Don't misunderstand me, Detective. He brutally tortured and murdered her. But he didn't just toss her body away like trash as with the others. I think he either met or saw her somewhere, or she reminded him of somebody he loved and lost."

"There's no way you can know that."

"Then how do you explain the care he showed when displaying her body for us to find?" Hotch folded his arms across his chest and offered his famous stare. "As I said, it wasn't just tossed. The care he took with her body says there was something about Clarissa Meadows that affected him. If we can find out what that something is, it could help us find him."

Parsons backed down a bit under the dark-haired man's stare. "I can't explain it," was all he said. The detective still wasn't sure how much of this profiling he bought into, but he couldn't find fault with what Hotch just said. "I'll make sure you get a copy of the autopsy report." He turned and walked out of the room.

"Parsons is a stubborn man," Rossi remarked watching the man's receding back through the glass of the closed door.

"But he's a good cop," Hotch stated as he pulled out his cell. An idea had come to him and he needed to have it checked out. Hopefully it would lead to something.

"Speak to me, my liege."

"Garcia, I need you to check something for me."

"For you, mon Capitan, your wish is my command."

"I need you to go back about five years in Santa Barbara. Check for anybody who has lost a loved one. Leave out all women who have lost husbands and couples who have lost children or parents. Concentrate on those men who have lost spouses. I also need you to check on Clarissa Meadows and her family. See if they ever had a problem with someone who may have stalked the daughter. In addition, there was a call which came into the police station today. I need you to look into it. Get back to me as-soon-as you can."

"For you, my liege, I'll be back faster than it takes the sun to rise in California." Garcia disconnected the call.

"Think our boy lost someone he loved?" asked Rossi watching Hotch return his phone to his pocket.

"I do. I think that's why he was so careful how he displayed the last body. Clarissa reminded him of somebody. I'm hoping he'll be among the list Garcia will compile. That and what Morgan and Prentiss find at the cab company will give us our Unsub."

Rossi's eyes narrowed as he saw a slight change on his best friend's face. "Something's still troubling you, Aaron?"

Hotch hated it sometimes that Rossi knew him so well. "I just have this feeling that things are not going to end well."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The remaining members of the team ordered sandwiches and soft drinks from the deli next door to the police station. This way, they could keep working while they ate. Garcia had called once reporting the only thing on the anonymous phone call was it had been made using a prepaid cell phone. Hotch was disappointed but not surprised. But twenty minutes later, an excited Garcia's face appeared on the laptop screen.

"Let me begin by saying, sir, that I left no stone unturned," she told Hotch. "I searched high and low until I found the information you asked for about Clarissa Meadows and her family."

Hotch grinned. "Go ahead, Garcia."

"Yes, sir. I went back five years like you asked me to do, and I hit the jackpot. Four years ago, Cecil and Dorothy Meadows lived in Reno, Nevada. They reported to the police that their then fifteen-year-old daughter, Clarissa, was being stalked. Her stalker turned out to be a thirty-five-year-old widower named Ronald Brandt. Her parents secured a Civil Harassment Restraining Order against him."(1)

"Why did he stalk her?" asked Hotch.

"Brandt's wife had died a month earlier," Garcia explained. "He apologized to the Meadows family when the locals paid him a visit. He explained that when he saw Clarissa, the resemblance to his late wife threw him, and caused him to repeatedly try to contact her. The police didn't arrest him because he seemed truly sorry for causing problems. But the harassment continued, but the police could not prove Brandt was responsible, so again he wasn't charged. To get away from everything, the Meadows family moved from Reno, Nevada to Santa Barbara, California."

"How did his wife die, Garcia?" asked JJ.

"She died in a car crash under mysterious circumstances."

"What circumstances?" asked Reid, eyes narrowed.

"According to the police report, it turned out her brake hose had been tampered with causing her brakes to fail. She had moved in with her sister after moving out of the home she shared with Brandt. She had been returning to her sister's after leaving work when her brakes failed. Her car collided head-on with a guardrail and she was killed instantly. And sir, she had filed for divorce a week before she died."

Rossi and Hotch exchanged knowing looks. Ronald Brandt began to look good for the murders.

"Oh my God," Garcia exclaimed.

"What is it?" asked Hotch.

"Sir, Clarissa Meadows and Sandra Brandt can be twins. I'm sending you their photos like super-pronto." A few seconds later, side-by-side photos of Clarissa Meadows and Sandra Brandt appeared. Except for the different hair, skin, and eye color, the women's features were the same. The team studied the photos carefully.

"They can be twins," Rossi noted studying the photos.

Hotch agreed. "Garcia, what about Ronald Brandt?"

"Uh, he was a suspect in the death of his wife, but the police never found a way to link him with her death. They kept him under surveillance for weeks; but in the end, he was never charged. But the police discovered she had a boyfriend whom they interviewed. He told police they had been having an affair for six months, and she had filed for divorce from her husband so they could be together. He had an airtight alibi at the time of her death. "

"Do you have a picture of the husband?"

"Newsflash. The best picture I found was one taken during the police surveillance after his wife's death. Coming at you right now, sir."

A photo of the man known as Ronald Brandt appeared on the screen. It was not quite a close-up, and not taken from a distance. The man was either looking at something, or unaware he was under surveillance, and wearing sunglasses.

"This could be our Unsub," Rossi said looking at his friend.

Hotch nodded. "I agree. Garcia, do you have an address for Ronald Brandt?"

"No, sir. After the Meadows family moved out of Reno, he fell off the grid as they say. I looked everywhere. I used every trick I can think of, and searched using every program I have. The last place I found any record of him was the hospital in Reno where he worked. But he quit shortly after the Meadows family left town. I checked private and public moving companies, storage facilities, real estate companies, banks, hospitals, clinics, and the DMV. I even checked funeral homes just in case...well, you know. I also checked with the Canary Yellow cab company. I found zilch. Zero. Nada. Even the Reno police have no idea where he went. And sir, he was a surgeon."

Hotch let out a deep breath. "Keep looking, Garcia. Nobody just falls off the face of the earth. There has to be a paper trail somewhere."

"Yes, sir. I'll keep looking and double-check where I've looked already and get back to you whether I find anything or not. Garcia out." The FBI logo appeared on the screen.

Hotch leaned toward the table with hands flat. "If Brandt is our Unsub, seeing the photos of his late wife and Clarissa Meadows explains why he took care with her body. When he saw her at fifteen, he noticed the resemblance to his late wife, so he stalked her. When she turned nineteen, he abducted her. His wife's affair was probably his main stressor, and the divorce a secondary stressor."

"His spouse having an affair for months must have made him very hurt and angry," said JJ.

"He must've spent considerable time searching for Clarissa after she left Reno, knowing what he planned on doing to her," said Hotch. "But once he found her, he not only lacked the nerve to confront her directly, but the capability to carry out his torture."

"But why kill Anthony Barstow, Shannon Carstairs, and Thomas Gannon if Clarissa Meadows was the intended target?" asked JJ.

"The others were a practice run until he built up the courage to confront Clarissa Meadows," Rossi explained. "And he kept killing until he had perfected his method."

"But we don't know if he's even in Santa Barbara," Reid explained. "Yes, he does meet the profile and he is or was a surgeon. But if he isn't in Santa Barbara, there goes our best suspect."

It was then the door opened, and a very tired-looking Morgan and Prentiss walked into the room. Both collapsed in chairs and let out deep breaths.

"You two look terrible," Rossi smirked.

"We feel terrible," Morgan acknowledged.

"But we got a copy of the employee list from Canary Yellow cab company," Prentiss explained handing her boss two pages of names and addresses.

Hotch examined both pages. "I'll have Garcia run these names as well as what she's already doing." He removed his cell phone and dialed Garcia's number.

"Something happen?" asked Morgan looking at Rossi while his boss talked with the tech analyst privately.

Rossi nodded and explained what they had just found out. Prentiss and Morgan exchanged looks before Morgan looked back at the older man.

"This Ronald Brandt must be really good if baby girl can't find 'im," he said. "But he has to be somewhere."

"That's why Hotch has Garcia going over everything again," said Rossi.

"You and Hotch figure this Ronald Brandt is good for the four murders?" asked Prentiss with a shake of her head.

"He definitely fits the profile," Rossi pointed out.

Hotch put away his cell phone and faced the others. "Garcia's going to run a check on all fourteen names on this list and see if Ronald Brandt's photo matches any of the drivers." He looked at Morgan and Prentiss. "Have you two had lunch?"

"We didn't have time," Morgan explained. "It took a while to get the list of drivers from the cab company, and then we hurried right back here." And soon as he finished talking, his stomach rumbled. He looked at his boss, embarrassed.

Hotch looked at both agents. "Take an hour and head to the deli next door. Get yourselves something. It's going to take time for Garcia to run the checks on fourteen drivers and go over her research on Ronald Brandt."

"Sounds good to me," Prentiss groaned as she got to her feet. Morgan followed suit. Both of them headed out of the door to grab a late lunch.

Hotch watched them leave before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache was forming. The feeling that things were not going to end well became stronger. He believed Ronald Brandt was their Unsub. And all that mattered now was finding the man before he got Morgan, or whoever his actual target on the team was. Little did Hotch realize that Ronald Brandt was one of the many aliases of Jason Armitage.

* * *

Armitage smirked as he crouched beside the body of Simon Fennier who lay face-up beside the refrigerator on his kitchen floor. Blood, mixing with the spilled beer, stained the tile beneath the body. With a grin, Armitage wiped the blade on the man's trousers before he tucked the knife into his belt and stood up slowly.

It had been so easy he recalled. He had driven the cab to Fennier's house and parked it in the driveway. Fennier came outside to greet him as was his habit, while he got out of the vehicle. After exchanging pleasantries, Armitage asked if Fennier had anything cold to drink as he was thirsty. The man said he had twelve bottles of cold beer in his refrigerator and for him to come inside and join him. Armitage, not really thirsty, gladly accepted the offer of a beer to put the man at ease. He watched Fennier walk into the kitchen, and followed behind, reaching into his pocket at the same time. He pulled his hand out slowly as Fennier started closing the refrigerator door. The minute the door closed, the man's eyes bulged as the blade was driven forcefully into his lower abdomen over and over, blood spraying everywhere from the force of the thrusts.

The two beer bottles fell from his hand crashing to the floor and shattering, cold beer spilling everywhere. The man weakly grabbed at Armitage's shoulders as his knees buckled, and he fell on his back on the floor. Armitage straddled him and continued stabbing until the man stopped struggling. Breathing hard, he pressed two fingers against the man's throat feeling for a pulse; there was none. It was unfortunate he hadn't been able to make it appear as a suicide, but those were the breaks.

Armitage finally awoke as if from a dream. His clothes were stained with blood. As he wiped his stained hands on his pants, Armitage knew he had to change before he left. It would not do to be seen with bloody clothes. And since he and Fennier were the same size, there should be no problem finding clothes that would fit him.

He hurried into the living room, and up the stairs leading to the bedroom. There, Armitage stripped off his bloody clothes until he had on nothing but his boxers. He had come prepared, though, crouched down, and removed a pair of Latex gloves from his back pants pocket. After he straightened up, he rummaged through Fennier's clothes closet until he found a torn pair of jeans and a red tee shirt. He dressed quickly. He also grabbed a tote bag from the back of the closet in which he stuffed his bloody clothes. He'd dispose of them later. After he returned downstairs, he took a last glance at the bloody corpse near the refrigerator. Still wearing the Latex gloves, he picked up the receiver of the phone on the table, and pulled out a handkerchief. He pushed the buttons on the phone, then covered the mouthpiece with the handkerchief.

"Nine-one-one. Please state your emergency."

"I want to report a murder."

* * *

Morgan and Prentiss returned to the conference room at the same time as Detective Parsons. All the agents looked up when the door opened. The Unit Chief saw the concerned look on the detective's face.

"What's happened?" Hotch asked.

"I'm not sure," Parsons explained. "A 911 call was received. An anonymous caller reported a murder at 2414 Bingham Road. Says the victim's name is Simon Fennier. I'm heading out there now."

Hotch got to his feet. "Dave. Reid. You're with me." The three agents followed Parsons out of the door.

The agents followed Parsons in their SUV with Hotch behind the wheel, and Rossi beside him. Reid sat in the back seat looking out the window. He had noticed nothing but endless rows of small houses and his brain was working. With a glance at his friend, Hotch could see Rossi was thinking the same thing. Was this another victim of their killer? Had he chosen somebody else in place of Morgan? And if so, why?

Rossi pulled out his cell phone.

"Office of the technological genie. As me a question and I will grant your wish."

Rossi smirked. "Garcia, what do you have on a Simon Fennier?"

"Un momento, por favor." The sound of her fingers racing over her keyboard could be heard. "Okay, Simon Fennier has a rap sheet longer than Dr. Reid's hair…"

Reid started. "What? My hair isn't that long," he protested until he saw Hotch stare at him in the rearview mirror and closed his mouth.

"Continue, Garcia," Rossi said.

"As I was saying, our Mr. Fennier has a long rap sheet. Everything from public drunkenness, petty thief, robbery, spousal abuse, assault with a deadly weapon, and other things too many to mention. He and his wife lived at 2414 Bingham Road. They had no children thank God. She ran off with another man three years ago but he still lives there. Oh, and sir, he drives a cab with the Canary Yellow cab company although I don't know how he got that job. He was one of the names on the list Hotch gave me to run a check on earlier."

"Has there been any complaints filed against him by customers with the cab company?" asked Reid.

"Let's see, my baby G-man. Yes. There have been one, two, three…seven complaints filed against Mr. Fennier ranging from rudeness, being uncooperative, and just an all-around nasty character. But no action was never taken against him by his employer."

"Thanks, Garcia." Rossi disconnected the call and looked at his boss. "Charming fellow," he said. The older man's eyebrows knitted together. "You don't think Ronald Brandt and Simon Fennier could be the same person, and he killed himself believing it was only a matter of time, do you?"

"Anything's possible," said Hotch.

"But something else bothers me," Rossi said. "If this Fennier turns out not to be the Unsub, but another victim, why would his body be left in a house as opposed to out in the open?"

"If you're right, then our killer is changing his MO again." Hotch looked at Rossi. "It wouldn't be the first time since we've been here."

Reid's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Guys, I think Simon Fennier was nothing more than a means to an end."

"What do you mean?" asked Hotch.

"Think about it." Reid was becoming excited. "The Unsub wanted us to believe his next target would be Morgan. So why go after a total stranger? And this Simon Fennier just happens to drive a cab? How coincidental is that? And Fennier's home is within the Unsub's comfort zone. Guys, Simon Fennier is not the Unsub."

Hotch pursed his lips and his eyes narrowed as he mulled over what Reid had said. "But Brandt wants us to believe he is. The Unsub knows Fennier, and its possible Fennier may have discovered for what his cab was being used. And if we go on the basis that Brandt is our killer, he probably used Fennier's cab to find and transport his victims to wherever he tortures them. But now Fennier has become a liability to him."

"So he's getting rid of anybody who he considers a threat," Rossi added.

"When a cab driver isn't working, he or she will often lend their cab out to a friend who may need to make a little extra money moonlighting. If Fennier loaned his cab to the Unsub, and then found out the truth, it probably resulted in a confrontation between the two men," Reid explained.

Rossi looked at Hotch. "And now the Unsub figures it's time to dump the cab, and get rid of the man who loaned it to him. But why? We have no proof our killer even drives a cab."

"I realize that, Dave," Hotch said. "But let's look at the facts. Out of all the drivers for Canary Yellow cab company, he chose Fennier. Why? There has to be a reason. And the only reason can be is it was Fennier's cab he was using."

"So all we have to do is find out whom Fennier was lending his cab out to on the days he wasn't working," said Rossi.

Hotch parked the SUV behind Parson's car and turned off the engine. He glanced at Rossi and Reid as both men unbuckled their seat belts. "If it could only be that easy, Dave." That said, the three men climbed out of their vehicle and joined Parsons who was speaking with an officer already on the scene. They followed the detective up the steps and into the living room where a sheet-covered body lay on the floor just inside the kitchen. Blood was already staining the sheet in several places. The four men approached the body.

Trying to avoid the broken glass, Parsons crouched beside the body and lifted a corner of the sheet and grimaced at the bloody sight which met his eyes. Both Hotch and Rossi bent over, hands on thighs, and studied the body, while Reid stuck his hands in his pockets.

"He didn't sever the body in half like he did the others," Rossi commented.

"And there's no torture wounds on the body either," Hotch added. "The anger behind this killing indicates it was personal."

"How can you possibly know that?" asked Parsons, staring at the dark-haired man.

"The wounds. They are no signs of hesitation between strikes. Also, the wounds were made with much force. You can tell from how deep they are. That indicates our killer not only knew this victim, but took great delight in what he was doing when he struck. He's escalating and fast."

"Wait a minute," Parsons said eyes shifting between Rossi and Hotch. "Are you telling me the guy who killed those others is the same guy who did this? How can you be sure of that? This body wasn't cut in half or tortured like the others."

"We're aware of that, Detective," Hotch explained. "This victim was killed for a different reason than the others. The Unsub viewed him as a threat."

"Threat? To what?"

Rossi looked up at Parsons. "A threat to us finding out to whom Mr. Fennier loaned his taxi. That man, Detective, is your killer."

Reid removed a pair of Latex gloves from his pocket, and crouched low to take a close examination of the wounds. His eyes narrowed as he carefully touched the edges.

"See something Reid?" asked Hotch.

"These wounds were made with a smooth blade," Reid explained. "The edges are not ragged or torn. In fact, they resemble the same kind of wounds made on the other victims."

"I don't understand," Parsons let the sheet drop back over the body. His eyes shifted from Rossi to Hotch. "If our guy killed Fennier, wouldn't it have been easier to just kidnap him like the others?"

"Fennier's murder wasn't part of the original plan until the BAU arrived," Hotch explained. "We believe Fennier loaned his cab to the Unsub on the belief he was helping somebody earn a few extra dollars. Only our killer wanted it as a means to getting close to his victims. And as a means of transport to get them to wherever he tortures them."

"We also believe the Unsub somehow figured out we were looking into yellow cabs, and decided it was too much of a risk," Rossi continued. "So he brought the cab back to its owner, then killed him before he could tell us anything."

Parsons let out a deep, frustrated breath and shook his head. "In other words, we got nothing."

"Not exactly," Hotch explained. He told the detective about Ronald Brandt and of their suspicions.

"You think this Brandt is good for this?" Parsons asked, hands on hips.

"We do," said Rossi. "Trouble is, we have no idea where he is. Hopefully Fennier's taxi will tell us."

* * *

(1)In California, a Civil Harassment Restraining Order is offered by the court. It's placed in effect when any individual has been harassed, teased, taunted, or annoyed by another person or persons.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

It was nearly nine p.m. by the time the team returned to the police station after a long, depressing day. Not only had no anonymous fingerprints been found in the taxi, but Fennier's hadn't been either. The entire vehicle had been scrubbed down inside and out leaving nothing. A thorough search of Fennier's home also showed nothing of any use which only fueled the team's feelings of uselessness. Added to that was Garcia's report on the other drivers on the list Hotch gave her proved to be a waste of time. Weary and frustrated by the lack of progress, Hotch decided the team should call it a night, have dinner, and resume in the morning with fresh eyes.

"There's an all-night diner a few blocks from here," JJ said. "I've been told the food is pretty good there." Nobody disagreed with the blond's suggestion. Nor did anybody argue with Rossi's offer to buy dinner. Everybody started to pack up to leave; everybody that is except Hotch. When pressed by Morgan, the Unit Chief ordered them to go ahead and he'd see them in the morning.

A glance between Morgan and Rossi told Morgan the older man would handle things, and for the others to go ahead. He'd take care of Hotch and join them shortly. Morgan nodded and he, Reid, JJ and Prentiss left to wait outside in the cool late night air for the two men. Once alone, Rossi pulled out a chair and sat facing his best friend. He placed a hand on Hotch's arm. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Hotch replied while he continued to stare at the envelope inside the evidence bag in his hand. There is a weariness in his eyes. To Rossi, Hotch looked as if he would collapse if he didn't take a break soon. He knew the younger man was in danger of suffering a meltdown if he kept pushing himself. And Rossi would make damn sure Hotch took time to relax, even if only for a few hours.

"You're not talking to a recruit fresh outta the academy, Aaron. We've known each other for over twenty years. I know when something's up with you."

"Leave it alone, Dave. I'm fine. Just tired. Go join the others for dinner. I'm sure they're probably waiting for you outside anyway." Hotch hoped Rossi would accept his explanation, but also knew his friend could be like a dog with a bone. He could tell the older man didn't believe a word he said, nor would he let the matter drop.

"Correction, they're outside waiting for us. I can tell you need to talk to somebody, and I'm here for you. Now give."

Hotch tossed the evidence bag on the table, rested an elbow on the edge, and rubbed his forehead with his hand. He turned his head toward Rossi. "It's this damn block lettering on the envelope addressed to Morgan. If I can only remember where I've seen it before, we would know who the Unsub is."

"You still can't remember?"

Hotch shook his head. "No. And I'm letting the team down because I can't remember." He let out a deep breath and hung his head.

Ross smiled, gripped Hotch's shoulder, and shook it gently. "You need to take a break, my friend. You're gonna burn yourself out otherwise. And a Unit Chief who falls asleep on the job is of no use to us or himself. You should follow your own advice to the team. Why don't you join us for a late dinner and then get some sleep. Besides, since we have no idea who on the team this guy might be after, we need to stick together. That applies to our Unit Chief as well, or did you think you were excluded from that order?"

Hotch smirked at Rossi. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

With a grin, Rossi looked at Hotch. "Not on your life. C'mon, we've got four hungry agents waiting outside for us. And you know how cranky the children get when they're hungry and sleepy. Especially Prentiss."

With a chuckle, Hotch let out another deep breath, knowing Rossi was right. He would be of no use to anybody in his current condition. And his team deserved a leader who was at his best. He got to his feet the same time as Rossi. The two men soon joined the others who still waited outside the precinct.

"We wondered when you two would show up," Prentiss smiled. "We're starved. And you know how cranky I get when I'm hungry."

Hotch and Rossi exchanged knowing smirks as everybody headed toward the two parked SUVs. But as Hotch climbed behind the wheel of one vehicle, the hairs on the back of his neck bristled as he felt someone's eyes on him. He paused and looked both ways, but didn't spot anybody. Rossi, sliding onto the front passenger seat, noticed Hotch's hesitation as he began buckling his seat belt.

"Aaron? Something wrong?" he asked. JJ, about to get into the back seat, paused and looked at her boss. The others outside the other SUV, stopped to listen.

Hotch, figuring his imagination was playing tricks on him due to being overtired, shook his head. "It's nothing," he said with a tired smile. "I'll be fine once I get a good night's sleep," and got behind the wheel, closing the door.

Rossi smiled in return. "Join the club," he added. Deep down, the older man knew his friend wasn't being truthful, but decided not to push him right now. Hotch would talk when ready.

But as the two SUVs pulled away from the curb, a man looked out from the alleyway beside the precinct. He wore a devious grin on his face as he watched the two vehicles head down the street. "I know you sense me watching you, Aaron," he said in a low voice. "The day after tomorrow, Aaron. Enjoy your last few hours of life."

* * *

Hotch admitted to himself he was glad Rossi convinced him to go with them to the diner. After awhile he completely forgot about somebody watching him, and chalked it up to his mind playing tricks on him. The food and service were excellent, and the atmosphere pleasant, as was the company. Hotch, Rossi and Morgan all chose a medium rare sirloin steak with baked potato with sour cream, and a vegetable. JJ and Prentiss both ordered a large chicken salad with oil and vinegar, and Reid ordered a burger platter. All had beer except Reid who ordered a club soda.

Rossi, out of the corner of his eye, saw the twinkle reappear in his friend's eyes and smiled to himself. Hotch was enjoying himself and relaxing as much as he allowed himself to relax without his son. Rossi also made sure nobody discussed any case or work related subjects while they ate, but allowed any topics he deemed acceptable. The older man was determined that Aaron Hotchner should have at least one night of relaxation. Not that they all couldn't use one; it was that Hotch needed it more.

By the time everybody returned to the hotel, it was near midnight. The agents headed to their rooms which were next to each other. As Hotch opened the door to his room, he glanced sideways at Rossi who had the room next to his. A small smile appeared. Rossi chose that moment to look at his friend. "What?" Rossi asked innocently.

"Thanks, Dave."

"Anytime, my friend. Anytime," Rossi replied with a smile of his own. "Go to bed. See you in the morning. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Hotch entered his room and closed the door behind him. As he let out a deep breath, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. After removing his shoes and socks, and stripping down to his boxers and tee shirt, he crawled beneath the covers. He reached up, turned out the light on the night table, closed his eyes, and allowed the darkness to swallow him.

Unaware of how long he slept, Aaron Hotchner awoke only to find it still dark outside his bedroom window. He turned and glanced at his bedside clock, and groaned when he saw the time was 3:15am. As he wasn't going to get anymore sleep, he slowly sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and put his feet on the floor. He ran his hands down his face and forced himself up off the bed. He put on a pair of sweatpants and staggered into the bathroom. After washing his hands, Hotch walked into the kitchenette to prepare a pot of coffee.

Waiting for the coffee to be ready, Hotch returned to the living room. Turning on the television, he collapsed on the sofa, but didn't pay much attention to what was being reported. Instead, he found his mind wandering back to the blocked lettering he could not remember, and to feeling eyes on him when the team left the precinct. He couldn't totally dismiss the feeling, and learned over the years to trust his instinct as it saved his life more than once.

He continued to stare at the television screen until the sound of the coffeemaker told him the coffee was ready. After he got to his feet, he poured himself a cup of hot coffee, grabbed his briefcase laying on the coffee table, and removed five file folders. He spread them out on the table in front of him, grabbed one, lay it open on the sofa, and began reading. He hoped maybe he'd find something he missed the first time, but doubted it as he had read the files several times. But still, he was hopeful something would stand out to him as he took a sip of coffee.

His concentration had been so intense, he nearly missed hearing the knock on his door. Wondering who would be up at this hour, he put his coffee cup on the table, and got to his feet. He hurried into the bedroom, grabbed his weapon, and returned to the living room. He stood before the door and removed the safety, his finger on the trigger. After a glance through the peephole, a grin appeared and he put the safety back on before he opened the door to find Dave Rossi standing there.

"I thought you were awake," the older man remarked as Hotch stood aside to allow his friend to enter the room. "Couldn't sleep?"

Hotch knew it useless to lie to his friend. "How did you know?"

Rossi smirked. "You forget these walls are paper thin. You can hear everything in the next room. I heard you moving around and then the television." He saw the Glock in Hotch's hand. "You expecting company?"

Hotch grinned. "When somebody knocks on your door after three in the morning, it's better to be safe than sorry." He paused. "Want some coffee?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Hotch chuckled as he lay his weapon on the coffee table and walked into the kitchenette with Rossi following behind him.

"Did you make it?" The older man stood in the archway of the kitchenette and waited as Hotch poured a cup of coffee.

"Yep. Less than an hour ago. Why?" he asked handing Rossi the cup knowing the older man took his coffee the same way he did.

"Just checking," Rossi smirked and took a sip of the dark brew. "Thank God for instant coffee machines, Aaron. I've tasted your coffee when your coffee maker broke and you hadn't bought a new one yet. Thank heavens my life insurance premiums are up to date." He chuckled seeing Hotch's scowl. "Now, let's have another look at those files, shall we?"

* * *

Armitage lay awake in the warmth of his bed in the darkness of his bedroom with hands clasped behind his head. He wore a smile on his face.

Everything was now in place and ready for Hotchner's arrival tomorrow. He had rented a dark blue SUV using one of his aliases. He also made sure he had everything he would need inside to restrain his captive. It wouldn't do for the agent to be able to fight back after he kidnapped him. He also formulated a plan how to use the blond beauty to lure Hotchner out of the police precinct alone. And if the blond had to be killed in order for him to grab Hotchner, she would be considered collateral damage. It would be a shame if he needed to kill the woman. Just thinking about the blond woman caused a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach. And a stirring in his loins which he hadn't thought possible since his second wife, Sandra, and later, Clarissa Meadows.

Killing Sandra had been a necessity as she proved to be nothing more than a whore. She had slept with another man and then rubbed it in his face. But despite her cheating, he found a part of him still loved and wanted her back. But he also hated her for her betrayal and she needed to be punished. Tampering with her brake hose and making it appear natural wasn't difficult if one knows how to do it properly. Even after she was dead, he still loved her. But what he did had to be done; it was necessary. It was only after her death was he able to move on with his life.

Then he saw Clarissa Meadows, and his anger and hatred for Sandra was reborn. But both were tempered by the love he still had for the woman despite everything. He believed Clarissa was Sandra come back to him, and he took this as a chance to make things right between the two of them. The resemblance between the two was remarkable. But the girl was only fifteen and too young. So he continued to watch and stalk her. He had to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn't stray as she originally had. Even after the order of protection was filed by her parents, he continued. He refused to let Sandra get away with her betrayal a second time.

And then she and her family left Reno without telling anybody. That made him extremely angry, and all he could think of was finding her and saving her before it was too late. But his hatred of Aaron Hotchner moved all thoughts of Clarissa to the back of his mind as he went about putting his plans for the agent into action. But first he needed to get out of town and away from the police surveillance. So in the dead of night, he managed to leave town right under the noses of the police and vanish.

Moving to Santa Barbara, California was the logical choice after he had managed to find out that was where the Meadows family had moved. But with thoughts of Aaron Hotchner still uppermost in his mind, he again pushed all thoughts of Clarissa to the back of his mind. Then he accidentally saw Clarissa Meadows on a date with a young man and his anger began to rear its head again. But all he could do right now was watch her, and wait until the time was right.

And when that time came, he killed the young woman as her being with men fueled his anger and hatred because to him, she was being unfaithful again. And she must be punished again. But when the time came to dispose of her body, he couldn't help but show tenderness. Afterall, a small part of him did still love her and couldn't treat her body like trash as he did the others.

But he believed the blond different from other women. He could tell just from the way she carried herself. She was a lady. His first two wives weren't as far as he was concerned. It was no small wonder he had to kill his first wife Ruthanne.(1) It had been a necessity. No, he could tell Jennifer Jareau was nothing like his first two wives. He secretly hoped he didn't have to kill her to lure Hotchner out of the precinct. After he dealt with Hotchner, perhaps he might grab Agent Jareau before he left town, take her with him, and make her his. He smiled liking the idea of having something pure in his life for once. And he would have fun breaking her spirit in the process. But in the end, if unable to, he would kill her like the others.

* * *

After several cups of coffee, Rossi tossed the last of the file folders on the coffee table and stretched his arms outward to alleviate his cramped muscles. He looked at Hotch who, facing him on the sofa, was leaning against the back with closed eyes. He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"We're missing something, Dave," Hotch explained looking at the older man.

"I agree. But we've gone over and over these files for hours, Aaron. There's nothing in them that we don't already know."

Hotch let out a deep breath. The exhaustion on his friend's face was obvious to Rossi. "Don't you think I realize this? But I just can't shake this feeling I have."

"You still feel things are going to get worse before this case is closed?"

"More than before, Dave. We've been stymied at every turn by this Unsub. We have nothing. No, correction, we have very little."

"We at least have a suspect and a name now."

Hotch sighed. "A suspect whom we can't locate. Garcia hasn't been able to find anything on him since he left Reno, Nevada. No fingerprints of Brandt's in Fennier's cab. It's like the man has vanished into thin air and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit, Dave."

"Neither do I," Rossi sighed wearily. "Any more luck remembering where you saw that blocked lettering?"

Hotch shook his head. "None." He saw a subtle change in Rossi's expression. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't nothing me, Dave. If you have something to say then say it."

"Okay. But remember, you asked. Have you given any more thought to maybe using Morgan's suggestion from earlier?"

Hotch stared at his friend like he had lost his mind. "Absolutely not! I will not purposely endanger any member of my team to catch a killer." Rossi stared at him. "What are you looking at, Dave? Have I suddenly grown another head or something?"

Rossi's eyes narrowed as he studied his friend. "You're considering using yourself as bait, aren't you?"

Hotch feigned shock. "What? Where'd you get an idea like that from?"

"From your face. Aaron, don't try to kid me. I've known you for too long for you to be able to pull a fast one on me. You're seriously considering using yourself as bait to lure out Brandt. And don't try denying it."

"And what if I am?"

"I'm going to tell you the same thing you told Morgan when he suggested what you just did. Absolutely not. No way. Are you crazy?"

"Dave…"

"Aaron, you're my best friend and have been for twenty years. I can't afford to lose you. The team can't afford to lose you."

"And if Morgan is the true target, I can't lose him. I refuse to lose another member of this team on my watch. I already lost Gideon and then Elle. I won't add Morgan to that list."

Rossi thought he understood at last. Hotch still blamed himself for Gideon leaving, and for Elle's shooting of a serial rapist in cold blood and then leaving the BAU. True he didn't know Elle at all, the woman had left by the time he came out of retirement, but he had heard the story from Hotch. He believed his friend blamed himself for what happened with the young woman. By not seeing she was in trouble emotionally after she had been shot in her home during the Randal Garner incident.(2)

"Aaron, you can't keep blaming yourself for what happened with Gideon and Elle. The only thing using yourself as bait to lure a killer is going to possibly get you is killed. I won't let you sacrifice yourself."

Hotch arched an eyebrow. "Dave, I'm only considering it as a last resort. But I can promise you I will let you know when the time comes if there is no other option."

Little did Aaron Hotchner realize that in about twenty-four hours, that decision would be taken out of his hands.

* * *

(1) Background on Armitage's first marriage and the death of his wife is in Mistaken Identities written by me, HotchRocks.

(2) Elle being shot in her home is from the Fisher King, Pt. 1 is Season 1. Part 2 is Season 2.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Sorry this update took so long. The arthritis in my left hand made typing slow. When my hand cramps too much I have to either stop typing for a few days, or use one hand. Coupled with writer's block, and not being able to get the chapter the way I want it, it took longer than I planned. But regardless, I will try to get the updates on both stories out as often as possible.**

**Chapter 15**

For the next two days, Hotch and the team went over everything they had uncovered during their investigation. But to their disappointment, nothing new stood out to them. Even Garcia had no new information for them about Ronald Brandt. It was as if the man never existed after leaving Reno, Nevada. And that didn't sit well with any of them. As the day turned into early evening, Morgan let out a deep breath and tossed his folder onto the table.

"This is getting us nowhere," he complained. "I can recite what's in these files by heart considering how many times I've gone over 'em."

"I agree with Morgan," Emily sighed shoving a folder away from her. "All we have on this Ronald Brandt is what Garcia was able to find. It's like he's dropped off the face of the earth."

"A stalker is not gonna forget about his victim just because she's moved away. He's gonna follow her," began Rossi. "Brandt has to be in Santa Barbara somewhere because Clarissa Meadows was here. And he wasn't about to let her get away. We might have even talked to him during our investigation."

"Rossi's right," Reid agreed. "The percentage of stalkers who follow their targets to another state to continue stalking them are great. We see it all the time."

"But nobody just disappears like this," Hotch said, the frustration showing on his face. "There has to be a paper trail somewhere." He ran a hand over his dark hair. "We're missing something." He thought briefly about the envelope with the blocked lettering. Hotch let out a deep breath, picked up a copy of Brandt's photo which Garcia had sent the day before, and studied it. He dropped it back on the table. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Prentiss, go back to the hospital and speak with Dr. Dracut again. Take Detective Parsons with you. Show Dracut a photo of Ronald Brandt and see if he recognizes him. Also check with hospital personnel. If Brandt works there, he could be using an alias."

"I'm on it," Emily said getting to her feet.

Hotch opened his eyes and looked at his youngest agent. "Reid, I want you to return to Lorimar's bookstore. Dave, go with him. Talk with Barstow's boss again. We need to find out how Barstow ended up in a yellow cab when he was suppose to be working on the day he disappeared. Also, see if the cab belonged to Canary Yellow cab company."

Nodding, Rossi started to his feet. "Let's go, kid," he said to Reid.

Hotch then looked up at the blond. "JJ, you have a good relationship with the Meadows family. Call them and find out if they remember if their daughter called for a cab before she went shopping. I understand she had her own car but it was in for repairs. We need to find out if she called the same cab company while her car was being repaired. Then call the cab company and see if they have a record of her call to them, and who's cab was assigned to pick her up before she disappeared."

"Right," the blond replied getting up quickly.

Hotch then looked at Morgan. "We need to take another look at the victimology. Maybe something there might tell us what it is we're missing."

"Well," Morgan began rubbing his chin. "We know victimology is why this particular victim at his particular time. But somehow, I don't think victimology applies in this case."

"What are you thinking?"

"Let's forget Clarissa Meadows for the moment. From what we have on the other three, they share nothing in common. Garcia has found no link between them. They didn't even travel in the same circles. Anthony Barstow worked in a bookstore. Shannon Carstairs was preparing to move to Alameda. The only two who had something in common were Thomas Gannon and Clarissa Meadows. He attended Westmont College, and she UC Santa Barbara."

"The fact that both were college students," Hotch said. Morgan nodded his head.

"I think this guy's picking victims at random," he said. "Who he kills doesn't matter. These were all victims of convenience. He's building up to a climax by targeting somebody on this team and making us believe it's me."

Hotch folded his hands on top of the table and looked at his friend. He didn't have to say anything as his eyes said what was on his mind.

"Hotch, I know what you're thinkin', man," Morgan explained. "And I'm not gonna let you do it."

"Do what?" Hotch asked stacking his folders in front of him without looking at Morgan.

"Making yourself an easy target for this guy."

Hotch feigned surprise and looked at his subordinate. "What makes you think I would do that?"

Morgan clasped his hands on top of a folder. He stared directly into his boss's deep brown eyes. "Because I know you, Hotch. This team needs you. Jack needs his father. If this guy is looking to kill someone on this team, I'll be damned if I let it be you."

Hotch let out a deep breath. "Morgan…."

"No. I know what its like growing up without a dad. I still miss him every day. I'd give anything to have him back in my life again. Do you really want Jack to go through that? I won't let you do it and neither will anybody else on this team."

Hotch arched an eyebrow. "You won't let me? Morgan, I will not jeopardize any member of this team to catch this guy. But should it come down to that being the only way, then the decision is mine and mine alone. And I am the logical choice. But rest assured, I do not intend to die. But if I should, I trust you will take over and lead this team."

* * *

Armitage kept close to the side wall of the police precinct as he waited in the alleyway. He had seen Rossi, Prentiss, Reid, and the lead detective leave the police station and climb into two separate vehicles. A smirk appeared. "Three down and one to go," he muttered knowing that Hotch, JJ, and Morgan still remained inside the precinct. All he had to do now was get Morgan out of the way thus leaving Hotchner and JJ alone. He reached inside his inner jacket pocket, and his fingers touched the taser he brought with him. Then, he reached in his jacket pocket, and gripped the paperweight he had brought with him to use as a weapon. His vehicle was parked directly outside the alleyway only a few yards away. All was in readiness.

* * *

Once she finished speaking with Dorothy Meadows, and then with the dispatcher for the cab company, JJ closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Dorothy Meadows remembered her daughter calling the Canary Yellow cab company to drive her into town the day she disappeared, but she didn't get a look at the driver. When JJ contacted the cab company, she was told they had a record of a pick up at the street address JJ recognized as belonging to the Meadows family. Thanking the female dispatcher, JJ let out a deep breath. She needed a break before reporting back to her boss. This entire case was giving her a headache. She needed a breath of air, and didn't think stepping outside the precinct for a few minutes would be a problem. And she wouldn't stray far. She would stay right outside the precinct. She walked up to the information desk and smiled at the young sergeant seated behind the counter. The man, who had been smitten with the beautiful blond, smiled broadly.

"Can I help you, Agent Jareau?" he asked staring into the woman's blue eyes. She had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

JJ had seen the look the young man was giving her when she first arrived. And while she was flattered by the attention, the man was too young. Even when she was single, she had never been one to 'rob the cradle' as the saying went. Besides, she was madly in love with Will. She fingered her necklace in a way so her wedding and engagement rings could be seen.

"If anybody's looking for me, I stepped outside for a few minutes to get a breath of air," she told the officer.

"Yes, ma'am." The uniformed officer spotted JJ's wedding ring and blushed with embarrassment. He watched the blond turn and walk toward the double glass doors, and push them open. She stepped out into the cool evening air, took in and let out a deep breath. The cool air felt good on her face. JJ looked back and forth, and noticed how quiet and nearly deserted the street was for early evening. She put the palms of her hands on the back of her hips and bent backward to stretch her muscles before straightening.

She then folded her arms across her chest and slowly walked around before she leaned against the edge of the building, her back partially facing the alleyway. JJ looked up at the night sky and marveled at how clear it was. So involved was she at looking up, she didn't see the danger approaching from behind until she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head. That was followed by a pair of arms catching her before she hit the ground as her legs buckled. As she fought against the darkness trying to claim her, a pair of arms grabbed her under her armpits, and dragged her into the alleyway.

* * *

Nearly forty-five minutes had gone by with no sign of JJ before Hotch and Morgan became worried.

Morgan looked at his watch. "JJ shouldn't be taking this long to make two telephone calls." He looked at Hotch. "Want me to go check on her?"

"I'll do it," Hotch announced getting to his feet. He left the conference room and walked into the outer room. His eyes scanned the area but saw no sign of the blond woman. His gut was telling him something was wrong. Concerned, Hotch walked up to the information desk. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a member of my team. Agent Jennifer Jareau. Have you seen her?"

The same sergeant, now busy with paperwork, lifted his head and looked at Hotch. "The lady with the long blond hair and pretty blue eyes?"

"Yes. Have you seen her?"

"Yes, sir. She said she needed some air and stepped outside."

Hotch glared at the young officer. The sergeant seemed to shrink under the agent's harsh glare. "There is a serial killer out there targeting men and women. And you just let her go outside alone?" he hissed in anger.

"I…I didn't see any harm, sir. She only stepped outside a few minutes ago and…" he stammered. Hotch, not wanting to hear the man's apology, turned abruptly and headed for the doors.

Once outside, Hotch looked in each direction, but saw no sign of the blond. A cold chill ran down his spine. If anything happened to JJ he would never forgive himself. He walked down the sidewalk away from the precinct. "JJ!" he shouted getting no response. In a panic, he quickly doubled back in the opposite direction toward the end of the building. "JJ! Answer me! It's Hotch!" It was then he heard moaning. Looking around the corner of the precinct, Hotch spotted a pair of jean-covered legs partially hidden behind several trash cans. _"JJ!"_ he shouted and ran into the alley. Reaching JJ, he knelt beside her and carefully rolled her over onto her back, holding up her head. As he lay her head back down and took his hand away, there was blood on his palm.

The blond struggled to stay conscious. She was having difficulty focusing on the figure crouched beside her, despite the voice being familiar.

"JJ, it's Hotch. Can you tell me who did this to you?"

JJ tried to sit up on her own. "Ho…Hotch…" she fell back down and struggled to sit up again. "Hotch…" she muttered.

"Shhhh. Take it easy, JJ. You're hurt, and could have a concussion. Lay still." Hotch reached inside his jacket and removed his cell. He couldn't leave JJ alone and he needed help. He began scrolling down his list of contacts until he came to Morgan's name.

Despite her fuzzy vision, JJ could make out the outline of a figure silently creeping up behind her supervisor. "No…" Hotch, believing JJ was arguing with him about needing help, paused before pressing Morgan's number to gently grab the blond's wrists. He wanted to keep her from moving about too much and hurting herself more.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. Somebody was approaching him from behind, and he sensed danger. He reached for his waist holster and turned at the same time. His main goal was to protect JJ at all cost. But before he could, he felt a burst of pain on the back of his neck and fell over onto JJ's legs.

JJ sensed Hotch was in trouble, and struggled to get up and help him, but she kept becoming dizzy and nauseous. She fell on her back again and groaned. She managed to raise an arm and massage her forehead. Her head hurt like hell. But Hotch needed her help.

"No," she cried out seeing someone turn Hotch onto his back and remove the Glock from the holster attached to his belt and stuff it in his belt. He then removed the unconscious man's backup weapon and tossed it aside. The man also tossed aside Hotch's cell phone. "Stop," JJ warned rolling onto her side in a feeble try to get up, but again fell backward. Her head was spinning and her eyes were unfocused. She closed her eyes and shook her head hoping to clear the cobwebs. The weight on her legs lessened, and realized Hotch 's body was being moved by the same person who had attacked and dragged her into the alley. JJ opened her eyes. "Leave him alone."

The blond winced as she rolled onto her side again, and struggled to push herself up using one arm. She reached out her other arm. "Leave him alone," she repeated. JJ grabbed the discarded Glock, and started dragging herself along the ground. She hoped to get close enough to fire a shot to stop the man from taking Hotch away. Despite her muddled mind, she believed the man was the Unsub, and he had Hotch. She couldn't let him take her boss and friend away and do to him what he had done to the others. "Stop! FBI!" she said weakly. Even the sound of her own voice added to the pain in her head. But none of that mattered right now.

As she dragged herself further, she saw the man dumping the unconscious Hotch into the back of a dark vehicle, and jump in behind him. The man secured Hotch's arms behind his back. He looked at the blond with an amused smirk as he jumped down, slid the door closed, and calmly walked to the front of his vehicle. JJ, by now, had dragged herself to the mouth of the alleyway. She raised a shaky hand, and prepared to squeeze the trigger. But with her blurred vision, she was afraid to fire; afraid she might hit somebody other than her intended target.

"No," she cried out in anguish as the vehicle pulled away from the curb. With a frustrated sigh, JJ's head fell on her outstretched arm, her fingertips resting on the handle of the gun. "Hotch…" she murmured as darkness overtook her completely.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The next time JJ slowly opened her eyes, she found herself laying on a couch with an ice pack on the back of her head. Grimacing, she tried to sit up, but a pair of hands gently eased her back down on the sofa.

"Take it easy, JJ," a familiar voice said. "You have a slight concussion."

"I'm all right," The blond forced herself up into a sitting position, grimacing as she did so. A wave of dizziness stopped her as she tried to stand up, so she remained seated. She held the ice bag in one hand, touched the lump on the back of her head with the other, and looked at her fingers. The bleeding had stopped, but she winced when her fingers had touched the lump. Now that her eyesight had cleared, she recognized Derek Morgan seated beside her on the couch. She looked around the room anxiously. "Where's Hotch?"

"I'm hoping you can tell me. When you were found unconscious in the alleyway, I also found one of Hotch's Glocks, and his cell phone nearby."

JJ's eyes widened. "Derek, he has Hotch. The Unsub. He attacked me and took Hotch."

Derek's eyes narrowed. "You sure?"

"Yes. Somebody struck me from behind and dragged me into the alley. I don't remember much after that except I recall hearing Hotch's voice. Then I recall somebody approaching him while his back was turned. Next thing I knew, I had one of Hotch's weapons in my hand. I tried to shoot, but with my blurred vision I didn't want to risk it. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Did you get any kind of look at the guy?"

"I didn't get a really good look at him. I wish…"

Before she finished, the door of the conference room opened, and in walked Prentiss, Reid and Rossi, all looking concerned.

"We got here as quick as possible," Rossi explained. "What's happened?"

"The Unsub took Hotch," said Morgan. The others all stood with mouths hanging open in shock.

"How? When?" asked Rossi, anxious.

Morgan explained what happened to JJ and how Hotch went to find her. He concluded how he found JJ alone in the alley, and Hotch missing except for one of his two guns, and cell phone.

"Are you all right?" Prentiss asked putting a hand on JJ's shoulder.

"I'm all right. I'm just worried about Hotch."

"Why would Brandt take Hotch if he sent Morgan a letter?" asked Reid with narrowed eyes. It was a question that was on the minds of the others as well.

"Possibly because Hotch showed up alone outside and Brandt decided to abduct him instead," suggested Prentiss.

"Or…" Reid looked at the group. "Maybe Hotch was the intended target from the beginning."

"How do you figure that, kid?" asked Morgan.

"We were led to believe Morgan was the intended target, and we went on that belief," Reid continued. "But the fact that he took Hotch says that he was the intended target and getting us to believe Morgan was the target, was simply a smokescreen. Brandt set the perfect plan in motion to throw us off track by sending that letter to Morgan."

"But why target Hotch?" asked JJ placing the ice pack back on the lump on the back of her head again.

"That's the part I haven't figured out yet," Reid admitted.

"Well, whatever the reason," said Rossi. "We have to find it out before Hotch ends up like the others."

"I'm the only one who at least got a look at the guy who took Hotch," JJ said. She looked at Morgan. "Can we do a cognitive interview? It might give us a lead. Or at least trigger something."

"JJ, you have a mild concussion," Morgan explained. "You're in no condition to do a cognitive interview right now. Maybe in an hour or so we can try."

The blond bit her lower lip. "And how much time might Hotch have left?" she asked. "Morgan, you know what Brandt has done to his other victims. You want to give him more time with Hotch before he kills him?" She noticed Morgan's hesitation and understood. "I can do this. So if you're worried, don't be."

Morgan rubbed his palms together. "Let's do it," he said getting to his feet.

JJ got to her feet at the same time and swayed a bit. Both Morgan and Emily were at her side quickly to steady her. The blond rubbed her forehead as the pounding in her head continued.

"This might not be a good idea," Emily said, conflicted. She knew JJ might be the best chance they had to save Hotch, but she clearly saw the media liaison was not in the best condition at the moment.

"I'm fine," JJ insisted as she steadied herself. "I just got up too quickly is all." She looked at Prentiss. "Em, Hotch is depending on us to save him, and we can't afford to wait. I know I should wait a few more hours, but we all know Hotch may not have a few more hours. If we're going to do this, we need to do it now while it's still fresh in my mind."

Morgan gently gripped JJ's arm and led the blond in the direction of a door leading to a smaller room where a snack machine, table, and two chairs were. The others watched through the Plexiglass window in the door.

Morgan and JJ sat facing each other. He studied the young woman. "You still seem a little out of it. You sure you're up to this?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay. Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Try and relax." JJ did as instructed. When the blond looked relaxed, Morgan continued. "Tell me what happened when you went outside."

"I got the information from the Meadows' family and the cab company as Hotch had requested. I started to get a headache. I needed a breath of air if only to help with the growing headache. Once outside, I walked around allowing myself to enjoy the cool evening air. After a few minutes, I doubled back to the edge of the precinct, leaned against the building, and looked up at the clear night sky." She let out a deep breath. "A sudden pain in the back of my head told me somebody had hit me. My legs buckled and I started to fall. That's when somebody caught me before I hit the ground. Then he dragged me further into the alleyway before laying me gently down on the ground." Morgan reached out and took her hand in both of his.

"Just relax. You're doing great. What did you see after Hotch found you?" JJ's eyes narrowed as the memory became clearer.

"I remember Hotch call out my name. I tried to move but I was so dizzy and nauseous. I remember Hotch beside me, asking who had done this to me."

JJ's body suddenly stiffened which did not escape Morgan's eyes. He squeezed her hand.

"A figure, it appeared to be a man, quietly approached Hotch while his back was turned. He held something in his hand, but I couldn't make out what it was. I tried to warn Hotch but wasn't able to get the words out. Suddenly Hotch got this look on his face like he sensed danger behind him. He reached for his gun and started to turn. But before he did, the man touched the back of his neck with what he had in his hand. I heard a crackling noise, and Hotch passed out across my legs. I think it was a taser."

"What did the man do after Hotch was unconscious?"

"I saw him roll Hotch onto his back. I was too dizzy to help. He removed Hotch's weapon from his waist holster and took it. He then removed his back-up piece and threw it and the cell phone away. I yelled at him to leave Hotch alone but he wouldn't listen. He dragged Hotch out of the alley toward his vehicle."

"What type of vehicle?"

JJ, eyes still closed, tilted her head a bit to the side as she tried to keep her concentration. "My vision was still fuzzy, but I could make out what looked like a van or a truck. It was dark in color; either black or blue. I couldn't make out the license plate. The man got Hotch inside the back of his vehicle and climbed in behind him. I think he was restraining him somehow. He only stayed with him for a few minutes, and then got out. I managed to find Hotch's discarded weapon and grabbed it. I then proceeded to drag myself toward the entrance of the alley to try and help Hotch. I tried to take a shot to stop the abductor, but I didn't trust myself because my vision was blurry."

"Can you describe the Unsub?"

JJ reached into the deep recesses of her brain before she spoke. Her headache got worse, but she ignored it. "He was about six feet, one inch tall, maybe 180 to 185 pounds. White with blond hair and blue eyes. He was wearing jeans, sneakers, a dark turtleneck sweater, and a dark windbreaker."

Morgan smiled widely and looked at JJ. "JJ, you did great." The blond opened her yes and looked at her friend.

"I did?"

"Yeah. Now, I have one more favor to ask of you."

"What?"

"I'm gonna get a sketch artist in here so we can get a likeness of this guy. Once that's done, I want you to lay down and rest. We'll handle the rest from here. Are you up to giving a description to the sketch artist?"

JJ smiled. "My head aches and I'm tired, but I can do it."

* * *

Aaron Hotchner moaned as he fought to regain consciousness. He winced as he moved his head before he decided it best to keep still. It was the only way to lessen the pain in his head. He tried to open his eyes but couldn't get his eyes to obey his brain. So, he squeezed his eyes shut before trying again. This time he managed to open his eyes just a bit but found his vision a bit blurred. Slowly his vision began to clear. Hotch found he could not move his arms or legs. And he was cold. Why did he feel so cold? And where was he?

Despite the throbbing pain in his head, Hotch raised his head, wincing from the effort. That was when he discovered he lay on a metal table. His arms were straight out from his body and tied painfully to the table with wire. His legs were spread-eagled with wire securing his ankles as well. And to his horror, he was stark naked which explained why he felt so cold.

Hotch struggled against his restraints but had no luck in freeing himself. If anything, the wires bit into his wrists and ankles causing them to sting and bleed a bit. He let out a deep breath, and laid his aching head back on the table. He was a prisoner of the Unsub he and his team had been hunting.

He tried to remember how he ended up in this current position, but the memories weren't exactly clear to him, his mind still too fuzzy. He turned his head and looked around the room. He hoped he'd see something which might tell him where he was. The first thing he noticed is what looked like a closed circuit television set facing him, but wasn't sure. There was an aluminum table near the television on which sat a taser, a crowbar, a carving knife, and a machete. There were other things on the table which he had no idea what they were for, but suspected it couldn't be good. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat. He took in and let out a deep breath as he struggled to get control of himself so he could face his captor. He refused to show Brandt any fear no matter what he planned to do to him.

They had practically nothing on Brandt and no idea where he was hiding. Hell, Hotch didn't even have any idea where he himself was. His only hope is that his team would find him before it was too late. But he also had to face reality. This might be the end for him and that his luck had run out.

Hotch allowed himself to think about Jack. Never again might he see his son's beautiful smiling, laughing face, or get to tell him how much he loved him. He would never see Jack grow up into a fine young man. But Haley would make sure Jack would be okay, and remind him how much his daddy loved him.

Haley. The love of his life since high school. Right now he would give anything to hold her in his arms and make passionate love to her one last time. And his team. They would mourn his passing, and he only hoped his death wouldn't break them apart. He had to believe they would be all right in the end. Hotch's lower lip trembled as he thought about his team. The two he worried about the most were Reid and Garcia. Reid with his abandonment issues, and Garcia who was so protective of him and the others. She would take his death the hardest. But Rossi, Morgan, and the others would help her through her grief.

Hotch suddenly felt somebody's eyes on him, and suspected he was no longer alone. He had been so involved with his thoughts he must not have heard the door open. The sound of footsteps coming closer made Hotch turn his head and face the man.

"You!" he hissed, anger showing on his face.

"Hello, Aaron," the familiar voice said sarcastically. "I've waited a long time for this moment."

Hotch found himself looking into the dark, cold, sadistic eyes of Jason Armitage.

"I should have known it was you from the blocked lettering on the envelope you sent to Morgan," Hotch hissed. "Where's your friend, Ronald Brandt?"

Armitage chuckled. "Ronald Brandt is one of my aliases. Not that this information will do you any good." A smirk appeared as he leaned over Hotch, bringing his mouth close to his ear. "I plan on taking my time with you, Aaron. I am going to do things to you even you can't imagine. And I am going to enjoy every moment before I put you out of your misery." He straightened. "But first, I will leave you for an hour to think about your fate while I take care of a few things upstairs. After I'm finished with you, I will leave here never to be seen again. And I want everything ready for my departure. I'll be back in an hour, Aaron, and then we will get started having fun."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: There is torture in this chapter, and some people may consider it extremely graphic.**

**Chapter 17**

Hotch had loss track of time after Armitage had left him alone in the room. After ten years, he had forgotten the man completely, believing him either dead or in jail. That had been a grievous error on his part. Hotch had nobody to blame but himself for failing to consider the blocked lettering on Morgan's envelope might be connected with Armitage. How had he forgotten Jason Armitage after what the man had done to him ten years earlier? Hotch was lucky the last time that his team found him before the house fire claimed him. But would he be as lucky this time? He prayed that the team would find him soon. He figured by now Morgan had to realize he was missing and would alert the others. And if Hotch knew Morgan, the man was blaming himself. Also, Hotch prayed that JJ was all right. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the door open. Turning his head, he saw Armitage walk into the room.

"I told you I'd be back in an hour, Aaron. Did you miss me?" Armitage sneered as he ran a hand over Hotch's dark hair in a caring manner. Hotch jerked his head away and glared at his captor.

"Take your damn hands off me!" Hotch hissed through gritted teeth. "Don't touch me!"

Armitage chuckled sarcastically. "You're hardly in a position to tell me what to do, Aaron. But precious time is being wasted. It's time to have fun. How about it? You ready to entertain me?"

"Why don't you just kill me now and have done with it? That is your intention, isn't it?"

"Killing you now isn't as enjoyable as making you suffer first. I want to hear you scream in agony. And you will before I'm done with you, trust me. And believe me when I say I'm going to take my time with you before I kill you."

Hotch was determined not to show any fear. "You might kill me, but my team will…" He never got to finish as Armitage reached out and clutched Hotch by the throat and squeezed, making breathing difficult. Hotch began to gasp for air. Armitage brought his face close to Hotch enabling his hot breath on the man's face.

"Your team will find you after I'm done with you!" Armitage sneered. "That is, they will find both halves of you. Then again, if you piss me off too much, I might just stray from the norm and leave you in pieces for your team to find. You'll look like a jigsaw puzzle. I'm tired of talking." He released his hold and Hotch coughed repeatedly and took deep breaths trying to get air into his lungs again. As he did so, Armitage turned and walked over to the aluminum table. He grabbed the crowbar and with a smirk, walked back to Hotch. Armitage grinned as he raised the crowbar and brought it down with all his might on Hotch's left knee. The agent screamed as the sound of bone breaking was heard.

* * *

Morgan looked at the sketch the police artist had come up with based on JJ's description.

"Is this the guy?" Morgan asked the blond showing her the sketch.

JJ took the sketch from Morgan and studied it carefully. Her head still hurt, but the aspirin she took lessened the pounding a little bit to make the pain more manageable. She made a clicking sound with her mouth and looked at Morgan. "It could be him. But my vision was so fuzzy I can't be sure. And I need to be. Hotch's life is on the line." Little did JJ realize that she had met the man before when she and Emily interviewed him. Only difference was that he wore a disguise when they met with him.

Morgan took the sketch back from JJ. "What does your gut tell you?"

JJ took in and let out a deep breath. "Derek, you're asking me to guess. I can't do that because if I guess wrong, Hotch will be the one to pay for it."

"I'm not asking you to guess. We always trusted your instincts about people and things. All I'm asking is to trust your gut now."

JJ took the sketch and studied it again. "This is the man I saw take Hotch." She handed it back to Morgan who got to his feet.

"We need to hold a press conference as-soon-as-possible and release this sketch to the public. Somebody had to have seen this guy."

"I can do it," JJ said.

Morgan studied JJ carefully. He could tell she still wasn't one hundred per cent, but her eyes looked a little bit better than earlier. "I can get Prentiss to do it," he explained. "I want you to get some rest."

JJ let out a deep breath. "Derek, I can handle this. I can. I'll be all right." To prove her point, the blond slowly got to her feet. She fought hard not to let the dizziness overtake her again, but even she knew Morgan had seen her sway a bit. But JJ righted herself without help. She smiled. "I'm fine. Besides, if I can't deal with a headache, then I don't need to be in the field. I'll contact the media and set up the press conference for two hours from now. Will that be soon enough?"

"That'll be fine. There's a couch in the back room. After the press conference, I want you to rest. If somebody recognizes this guy, we'll have to move fast."

JJ nodded and slowly took the sketch from Morgan and taking her time, slowly started to leave the back room. As she stood in the open doorway, she looked back at her friend. "Just do me one favor, Derek."

"What do you need?"

"Just stay close to me at the news conference."

Morgan smiled. "You got it."

* * *

Armitage stood beside the table on which Aaron Hotchner was restrained with a smirk on his face. Tears rolled down from the corners of Hotch's eyes from the severe pain in his knee, and the redness of the skin overlaying the knee joint. Not only would Hotch have serious bruising where he had been struck, but his knee was immensely tender and the area had looked swollen. He suspected his kneecap was either out of place or broken.

"Your knee looks terribly painful, Aaron," Armitage grinned. "I hope it's broken." With an amused grin, he placed his palm on the injured knee and pressed hard on it. Hotch gritted his teeth from the pain and hissed. Armitage removed his hand and smirked. "With luck I broke it. But it doesn't matter really." He walked back to the table and lay down the crowbar. He took his time looking over his toys before he picked up a steak knife and a cane. With an amused look at his captive, he walked back to Hotch and placed the cane on the table near the man's injured knee. He held up the steak knife. "I guess you're wondering what I'm going to do with this? Well, let me demonstrate for you."

That said, the man brought the knife close to Hotch's face. The agent turned his face away from Armitage despite exposing his right cheek to him. Angry, Armitage gripped Hotch's jaw and jerked his face toward him and held it in place. Hotch found himself looking upward again. He closed his eyes as the blade sliced down his left cheek just under his eye to his jaw, leaving a trail of red in it's wake. Then, Armitage repeated the procedure with Hotch's right cheek. The cuts, though not terribly deep, did bleed. When Armitage finished, he stood back to admire his artistry. He had carved his initials into both of Hotch's cheeks. Then he viciously backhanded Hotch across the face, followed by an open-palm slap on his opposite cheek. The blood from the cuts smeared across Hotch's cheeks.

The cuts were painful, but the slaps on both cheeks made the pain worse. Hotch gritted his teeth to keep from making a sound. He couldn't tell which hurt more, his face or his knee. He tasted blood in his mouth and realized he had bitten the inside of his cheek, the pain was so bad. But Hotch promised himself no matter how much more pain he endured, he would not give Armitage the satisfaction he was looking for by hearing him scream. Hotch silently cursed himself for crying out when the man struck his knee with the crowbar. He blamed it on the fact that he hadn't had time to prepare himself for the blow before it came. To help himself, he turned his thoughts to Jack, knowing he'd be able to take anything as long as he kept his mind on his son. Thinking of Jack brought him an inner peace that outweighed any physical pain he suffered.

No sooner had he let out a deep breath, than a sharp blow struck the bottom of one foot causing him to hiss through gritted teeth. The pain came again as another blow landed on the bottom of his other foot. Hotch hadn't even realized the man had grabbed the cane. Armitage was performing bastinado, or what was better known as foot whipping with the cane. After repeated blows to the bottoms of both feet, Hotch had a burning sensation in both feet as the nerve endings reacted to the blows. After a few minutes the whipping stopped, but Hotch's feet were on fire. The pain radiated throughout his entire body. He was glad he was tied down because he was sure he wouldn't be able to stand. Right now Hotch's entire body was a mass of pain. He hurt everywhere, and believed there was more to come before Armitage decided to put him out of his misery. _Think of Jack. Keep your mind on Jack. Think of your son._ Hotch let out a deep breath as thoughts of his little boy overrode the agony his body suffered. Seconds later, the whipping of his feet began again, and continued until something trickled down his feet. Hotch suspected it was blood.

* * *

Prentiss watched JJ closely as the blond prepared for the press conference. The raven-haired woman picked up the sketch and studied it carefully. JJ looked up and saw Emily's dark eyes narrow and her eyebrows knit together.

"What's wrong, Em?" she asked.

Prentiss made a clucking sound and shook her head. "I'm not sure. There's something about this sketch. For some reason this guy seems familiar, but I'm not sure." She lay the sketch on the table and looked at the blond. "How are you doing, JJ? Are you sure you're going to be all right to do this press conference?"

JJ rubbed her forehead and let out a deep breath. Although her headache had lessened, her head still ached. "I have to be, Em. Hotch is counting on me. I can't let a mild concussion get in the way." Emily squeezed her friend's shoulder and left her to her job.

Prentiss sat at the table with Reid, Rossi, and Morgan. Reid and Morgan were reviewing all information they had on Ronald Brandt which wasn't much. She observed the expression on Rossi's face. There was no hiding the fear, worry, and the concern the older man had for their Unit Chief. Rossi was rubbing his forehead while staring at a spot on the table. Prentiss touched the older man's arm which made Rossi turn to her.

"We're going to find him, Rossi," she said. "You have to believe that."

A faint smile appeared on Rossi's face. "I know," he replied. "I only pray he's alive when we do."

"Hotch will do whatever he has to to survive until we find him."

He took in and let out a deep breath. "I know. But for the first time, Emily, I have to admit I'm scared. Brandt has been escalating since we've been here. And considering the condition in which we've found the others victims, I don't even want to think about what Hotch is going through right now."

Morgan looked up from his reading and looked at the older man, well aware of the father/son relationship they shared. But Morgan was well aware of the possibility that they might not find Hotch alive. And if that was the case, Morgan would never forgive himself. He would never forgive himself for letting Hotch go outside alone to find JJ. He already blamed himself for Hotch being abducted. And would for whatever torture his Unit Chief endured. He suddenly noticed Rossi watching him.

"I know what you're thinking, Derek," Rossi began. "It's not your fault."

Morgan shook his head. "Yes it is, Rossi. I should have gone with Hotch when he went outside to search for JJ. Instead, I let him go by himself."

Rossi looked at Morgan directly. "Derek, you can't blame yourself for what happened. Aaron understood the risk when he went outside by himself. My guess is he would have argued against you going out with him or instead of him. Don't forget, you were the one who received the letter from Brandt. Do you really think he would have allowed you outside knowing there was a possibility this bastard was laying in wait for you?"

"I know you're right," Morgan explained. "But it doesn't make me feel any better. Truth of the matter is, Hotch should be here instead of me."

"I agree with Rossi," Reid admitted looking up and at Morgan. "We'll find Hotch and get him back."

"But in what condition will he be in when we do?" asked Morgan. "The longer he's with Brandt, the more torture he's being subjected to, Reid. If we somehow find him alive, he might not be the same Hotch we know." The young genius licked his lips.

"I understand it's hard," Reid admitted quietly. "But we have to think positively."

"Reid's right," Prentiss agreed. "We can't give up hope. Hotch would never give up hope if one of us had been taken by Brandt."

Morgan opened his mouth to reply, but closed it when the door to the conference room opened, and Detective Parsons appeared in the doorway. He had been told what happened and felt badly for the agents. He understood how worried they were about their missing leader, and they had good reason to be, considering in what condition the other victims were found. He shared their pain because despite them being FBI agents, they were brothers-in-arms when it came down to it. And when one of them suffered, all of them suffered. It was like an unspoken code between all law enforcement officers whether they be street cops, detectives, or FBI agents. What affected one, affected them all. Parsons had respected the dark-haired man as he not only liked him, but was envious of the love Hotchner's team apparently had for him. In the few days the agents had been here, he found they were unlike any team he had ever met. They were more like a family as opposed to six separate individuals.

"Can we help you, Detective?" asked Morgan, looking over at the man standing in the doorway.

"I just wanted to see if there's anything new on Agent Hotchner."

"Nothing yet," Morgan replied. "But we're gonna be holding a press conference in about an hour."

Parsons entered the room, closing the door. "Does that mean you have a suspect in mind?"

JJ picked up the sketch and held it out to Parsons. "This man. His name is Ronald Brandt. We believe he's our Unsub."

Parsons studied the sketch. "Doesn't look familiar."

"We have reason to believe he followed Clarissa Meadows out here from Reno, Nevada because he was stalking her," explained Rossi.

Parsons' eyes shifted to the older man. "Why was he stalking her?"

"Because she bore a striking resemblance to his late wife and he is suspected of her murder as well," Morgan continued. "After Clarissa Meadows and her family moved out here, he followed her here."

"And he was or is a surgeon, which means he has the ability needed to sever a body in half as was done to these victims," Reid added.

"Trouble is," JJ added. "We have no idea where he is. We've found very little on him and he's dropped off the grid since he's been out here."

"We suspect Brandt's intention was to get the BAU out here so he could kidnap Agent Hotchner. We also suspect that's why he killed as often as he could," Rossi explained, the pain clear on his face. "Once we were here, he had to hurry and kill Clarissa Meadows so he could get to Agent Hotchner."

Parsons swallowed the lump in his throat. "That means if he has Agent Hotchner…" He didn't finish his sentence.

* * *

Armitage picked up the remote control from the table and turned on the closed circuit television. The front entrance of his home appeared. He smiled and spoke while staring at the screen.

"This way I can see who is approaching my home," he told Hotch. "I wouldn't want us to be disturbed during our game." He looked at his prisoner. Hotch's injured knee starting to swell to twice it's normal size, and ugly bruising was forming. "That knee doesn't look too good, Aaron. But I have something that will take your mind off the pain."

The sadistic man bent down and picked up a medium-size cardboard box from the floor near the aluminum table, and carried it over to where Hotch was. He sat it on the floor beside the table. He stood up and grinned at Hotch who was barely conscious and in great pain. Hotch was unable to see what was in the box.

"From the size of that box, I suspect you're not going to give me any aspirin," Hotch said sarcastically.

Armitage grinned, amused. "Afraid not. But take my word for it, you will forget all about your knee and your face after this." He reached into the box, and stood up holding what resembled a modified version of an old-fashioned crank telephone. There were wires hanging from it and Armitage held two dry cell batteries in his other hand. He set everything down on the table near Hotch's left foot. "I can tell you are curious about this item. You'd be amazed what you can find on the internet these days. This is known, Aaron, as a Tucker telephone."(1)

Hotch watched as Armitage took one wire and wrapped it around the big toe of his left foot. He hissed in pain from his foot being touched because of the whipping. "Unfortunately, this can cause permanent organ damage and insanity. Should you survive, it can also damage or stop your heart completely, so I'll try and be careful. I wouldn't want you to die before time." He wrapped two wires around Hotch's testicles, and the last two around his penis. _Oh God, no!_ Hotch thought to himself._ Please! Don't do this! Somebody help me!_ Armitage smirked at Hotch who swallowed hard. He chuckled and turned the crank.

Hotch, who had promised himself he wouldn't, screamed in agony as the wires administered a jolt of electrical current to his genitals. The electricity traveled through his genitals, down his left leg, into his left foot, and out through his big toe as the 'grounded' wire was connected to his big toe. Hotch's entire body jerked violently, his reflexes forcing his butt high off the table; his genitalia waving like a bucking horse. Hotch felt like he was having a convulsion. Tears poured from his eyes and he bit his lower lip so hard it bled. After five minutes, Armitage cut off the current and looked at his prisoner. Fortunately for Hotch, he mercifully had passed out.

* * *

(1) The Tucker telephone was invented by Dr. A.E. Rollins, a 'resident physician' at Tucker State prison farm in Arkansas, in the 1960s. It was used to get confessions from inmates. The practice ended in the 1970s.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Hotch's entire body continued to convulse after receiving electrical jolts at five minute intervals every half hour for the past six hours. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead from the sweat that drenched his face. His pulse was so rapid he feared his heart would leap out of his chest. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Hotch had no idea how much more of this he could take before his heart gave out completely and darkness permanently claimed him. He recalled Armitage's warnings, and wondered if his heart had suffered any damage because of the past six hours. He licked his dry lips and tried to calm his breathing as he did his body. The chuckles from nearby caused Hotch to open his eyes a slit.

Jason Armitage sat in a chair at the foot of the table, his elbow resting on the table beside Hotch's left foot. He had been watching the agent convulse. "Something wrong, Aaron?" he asked with an amused grin. Hotch painfully turned his head sideways, trying to focus on Armitage.

"Go. To. Hell," Hotch hissed through gritted teeth in a husky voice. It hurt to even talk. He heard a chuckle. "What is…so…funny?"

"You," Armitage snickered. "After everything, you still don't get it." He smirked and shook his head. "But what galls me the most is your arrogance keeps you from admitting your error in prosecuting me for killing the man who killed my son." His face turned hard and cold. "No matter." The man returned to the small table, and picked up something. With a sigh, Armitage walked back to Hotch and held up the item he had chosen to use. Hotch remained silent staring at the device in Armitage's hand. "I see you recognize this from our last meeting ten years ago, Aaron. But in case you forgot, it's a Heretics fork. I'm sure you remember how painful it can be." Armitage fastened a collar around Hotch's neck, the fork at one end penetrating the flesh under the chin; the fork at the other end penetrating his upper chest. Hotch knew this device would not cause death, but prolong pain. It would also make speech and neck movement nearly impossible. And to make matters worse, he would be forced to hold his head erect or suffer more pain from the fork digging further into his chin and chest. Besides the pain, he now had infection to worry about as well.

The man folded his arms across his chest and looked down at his prisoner. "That should teach you to watch your mouth, Aaron." To add emphasis to his words, Armitage picked up the Tucker phone and cranked the handle again. Hotch's body convulsed from the electrical jolt. The convulsion caused his head to move causing both ends of the fork to dig further into his upper chest and chin. He gritted his teeth in agony. After enduring the electrical jolt for five minutes, Armitage turned off the Tucker phone, but did not disconnect the wires. Hotch ceased moving and went limp. Armitage looked at his watch before pressing two fingers against Aaron Hotchner's throat. The man's breathing was shallow and he had a weak and irregular pulse. He lifted one eyelid, and then the other. Both pupils were unfocused, and the whites of both eyes were bloodshot.

Knowing he had given the man not enough electricity to kill him, Armitage was not concerned, and walked away from the man, leaving him strapped to the table. He figured if Hotch died during the night he would be disappointed. But it wouldn't keep him from the final part of his plan about the disposal of the agent's body. He turned off the remote television set and started toward the door to leave the room. As he stood in the doorway of the room, he paused and looked back at the agent. An amused grin appeared on his face. "I do hope you're still alive in the morning, Aaron," he said. "I need you to be ready for a second day of fun." Chuckling when he didn't receive an answer, Armitage shut off the overhead lights and closed the door leaving Hotch in total darkness.

Sensing he was now alone, Aaron Hotchner swallowed the lump in his throat, and forced his eyes to open and dart around as he couldn't move his head. He grimaced at even that small motion. There wasn't one part of his body that didn't hurt. And he was cold as well. His lower lip trembled and a tear fell from the corners of both eyes. He told himself his team would find and save him before it was too late. But they had no idea where he was much less that it was Jason Armitage who had him. This made him realize he might not make it out alive this time.

Hotch blinked as he thought about Jack, and understood his son would miss him terribly. But he was glad the boy had his mother, and that Haley and the team would make sure Jack didn't forget him. _I'm sorry, Jack. I'm trying to hold on and fight. I love you and your mother so much. But I have no idea how much longer I can fight. I'm in so much pain, and I just want it to end. But I promise I will hold out for you as long as there's breath in my body. I promise._

He swallowed again. His thoughts turned to his team. They would take his death hard, especially Rossi and Morgan. Morgan would forever blame himself for not going with him to look for JJ. But there had been no way he could realize JJ had gone outside, and Hotch hadn't told him. But knowing Morgan as he did, Hotch knew the man would blame himself for the rest of his life. And Rossi would grieve for a long time and blame himself for not being able to save him. _I'm sorry, Dave. You are my best friend. And for that I will always be grateful. You've also been more like a father than a friend to me. And I will always love you. Don't let grief consume you._ Hotch figured he should try and get a little sleep as he understood what awaited him in the morning. He didn't need to know what Armitage had in mind, but he was positive it would involve more pain.

"Help me," he whispered. "Somebody please help me."

* * *

The press conference had gone off without a hitch as the saying went. Morgan and Emily both stood close to JJ as she updated not only the members of the media, but members of the SBPD as well, and released the sketch. When it was over, they both marveled at the blond's ability to put aside her discomfort long enough to speak in front of the press and other LEOs. Copies of the sketch had been later handed out to the LEDs after the team updated their profile with Parsons and the others detectives. Afterward, Prentiss handed JJ two aspirin and ordered her to lay down and rest on the couch in the back room. The blond started to argue but when she swayed a bit on her feet, she relented after eliciting a promise from Prentiss to inform her if they found Hotch.

After she let out a deep breath, Prentiss put an arm around the blond's waist and escorted her to the back room. When JJ was safely stretched out on the couch, Emily moistened a washcloth and placed it on the blond's forehead. She waited until JJ closed her eyes before she left the room and quietly closed the door. Prentiss joined the others at the table and noticed Rossi studying the sketch. He looked up when Prentiss sat down across from him.

"How's JJ?" he asked, concern on his face.

"She'll be alright. I promised her we'd come and get her if we find Hotch." Prentiss noticed the look on Rossi's face. "I saw you staring at that sketch. Did you see something?"

Rossi's eyebrows knitted as his eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure. There's something about this face that I can't put my finger on."

Prentiss tossed a strand of hair over her shoulder with her hand. "I said the same thing. I feel like I've seen this face somewhere before but can't figure out where either."

Rossi stroked his beard. "I wonder…."

"What?"

Rossi looked up at Morgan. "Hey Morgan, can Garcia search her computers and do that facial thing?"

Morgan, seated on the edge of a cabinet, looked at Rossi. "Baby girl can do anything you want with those computers of hers. Just tell her what it is you need."

Rossi took his cell phone from inside his jacket and dialed Garcia's phone number. He put the cell on speaker.

"You have reached the office of the Goddess of all that is technical," Garcia replied. "Speak oh mortal and be heard."

"Garcia, do you have that facial thing on your computer?" asked Rossi.

"You mean the facial recognition program? But of course. What do you need?"

"Pull up the photo of Ronald Brandt you sent us, then use the facial recognition program and compare it to images in the database. And get back to us as soon as you can, Garcia. Hotch's life depends on it." The last sentence left his mouth before Rossi remembered nobody had told Garcia Hotch had been taken.

"What happened to Hotch?" Garcia asked with worry in her voice. "And don't lie to me, David Rossi, or you will live to regret it. Now spill."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. We've been so busy looking…"

Garcia knew when one of her team stalled, especially David Rossi, then the news had to be bad. That didn't take a profiler. She clenched her lower jaw as tears built up in her eyes. "What. Happened. To. Hotch?" she repeated each word separately, her voice husky. "And don't lie to me. Is my fearless leader all right?"

Rossi looked at Morgan silently asking for help delivering the bad news from which he so wanted to protect Garcia. He understood how protective she was of the team, and how much she worried when they were on a case. This news would upset and scare her.

Morgan let out a deep breath. "Baby girl, the Unsub kidnapped Hotch," he explained gently. There was silence on the other end. "Garcia?"

"You'll find our liege, right? I mean, you will find him before…before…" Her lower lip trembled as she bit back a sob. "Before something happens to him, right?" she managed to get out.

"We'll find him alive, baby girl," Morgan hoped he hadn't just lied to the tech analyst.

"I'm going to hold you to that, Derek Morgan," Garcia stammered. "And as for you, David Rossi. You and I will have to have a talk after you've found Hotch and caught this bastard." Garcia felt more tears about to fall. "I'll get back to you asap with what I find. Garcia out." She disconnected the call before anybody could respond.

Rossi sighed and tucked his cell back in his inner pocket. He looked at the others to find them looking at him. He suspected they were all thinking the same thing. "I hope we didn't just lie to Garcia," he said.

* * *

Garcia, seated at her bank of computer screens, slid a hand under her red and pink eyeglass frames and wiped at her eyes with her fingertips. All she could think about right now was Hotch. She prayed he was still alive. Her fingers flew over her keyboard while at the same time trying to get control of her emotions. It would not do right now for her to fall apart. Nor would it help Hotch if she did. She struggled to bury her feelings and do what the team needed her to do if they were going to find their Unit Chief

"I will find you, you son-of-a-bitch!" she hissed looking at her computer screen. Garcia was a woman on a mission now. She would let nothing get in her way. Hotch needed her, and she would not fail him. Once she found the photo of Ronald Brandt she had earlier sent to the team, she typed furiously to access her facial recognition program. "You harm one hair on my handsome leader's head, you'll wish you had never been born after I'm done with you. I can promise you that." She activated the software and waited as thousands of faces on the database were run against the photo. "Where are you? You're in here somewhere. You have to be. And I will find you, you scumbag. You don't mess with any of my crime fighting lovelies and think you're going to get away with it." The fact Brandt wore sunglasses in the police surveillance photo would make things technically difficult, but not impossible. But it was the best surveillance photo of the man they had. She held her breath hoping it would be enough to get a match.

As she waited, Garcia found her mind drifting back to Hotch. How had Brandt managed to grab him? Why and where did he take him? What was happening to him right now? Most importantly, was he even alive? She had seen the crime scene photos of what the man did to his victims. An image of the Unsub doing to Hotch what had been done to the others caused a fresh batch of tears to gather in her eyes. _No, I will not think that way. Hotch is alive. I feel it in my heart. The team always says unless there's a body, one considered the missing person to be still alive. _Until official word came that Hotch was dead, she would believe him to be alive. Garcia wouldn't be able to handle it if he was dead. She couldn't imagine herself working for anybody else, nor did she want to work for anybody else.

A beeping sound came from her computer along with the words 'Match Found' flashing in the center of her screen. A small smile appeared as she brought up the photo of the man who's photo matched.

"Oh my God!" she gasped when she saw the photo. It was an old photo, probably taken several years ago. But there was no mistaking the resemblance. And if this was the Unsub, then Hotch was in serious trouble. The next thing she did was search for any property under his name in Santa Barbara and surrounding areas, but found nothing. Frantically, her fingers pressed buttons on her phone and waited impatiently for the person she called to pick up on the other end.

"Morgan," the voice said. "What do you have for us, Garcia?"

"I don't know how to tell you this, Morgan. I mean, I can hardly believe it myself and…"

"Hold on, sweetness. I'm gonna put you on speaker." Morgan pressed a button on his phone. "Go ahead."

"As I said, I can't believe what I just found. I mean it's totally unbelievable, because nobody has heard from this guy in several years."

"Just tell us, Garcia," Morgan said. Right now, his worry for his boss overrode any flirting he enjoyed doing with the tech analyst. "What did you find?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. I ran the facial recognition software and got a hit. It's an old photo of him, but it's a match."

"Is it Ronald Brandt?" asked Rossi.

"No, sir. Brandt's photo is a match for Jason Armitage. The man who tried to kill Hotch ten years ago." There was complete silence on the other end for several seconds.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"Are you sure, Garcia?" asked a now frightened Rossi. His eyes fell on Morgan. He recalled how he and Morgan had rescued Hotch who had been left restrained on a bed barely conscious; left to die in a house fire. The three of them barely got out alive. And Hotch, having been disfigured and sexually molested, had endured weeks of terrible pain, and several surgeries, before he finally began to recover. The older man saw the fear on the face of the younger man at hearing the name. He saw Morgan remembered as well.

"Yes, sir. I'm sending the photos to your laptop as we speak. I also checked for any property under his name in Santa Barbara and surrounding areas, and found zilch."

"Good work, Garcia," Rossi said. "We'll keep you informed."

"You'd better. Garcia out." The photo of Jason Armitage, apparently several years old, appeared beside the photo of Ronald Brandt wearing sunglasses in a split screen. The team stared at the man they hated for what their Unit Chief had gone through because of him.

Reid's eyes narrowed. It had nearly broken Reid's heart having to watch his boss struggle to recover ten years ago after his rescue. Reid didn't know the meaning of anger as he had never been angry. But that changed after he saw first-hand what Armitage had done to Hotch. He still recalled word-for-word that 'goodbye' video Hotch had been forced to make telling each member of the team goodbye believing he would soon die. After that, Reid hated the bastard who had put Hotch, a man he respected and admired, through so much pain. "Jason Armitage hasn't been heard from in ten years," he hissed unable to conceal his anger knowing the same bastard was back. "Where's he been all this time?"

"Apparently planning his revenge against Hotch," Rossi said. "And he's had plenty of time to plan this. He had to learn how to duplicate cutting a body in half surgically, as well as finding the right murder case to duplicate. He obviously stalked the team and Hotch once we came here which he knew would happen because of the brutality of these crimes." He looked at Morgan again. "He even used the block lettering on the envelope he sent you directing us to him and we didn't see it. We walked right into his trap." Rossi shook his head in disgust.

"He knew we would concentrate protecting Morgan, and leave Hotch unprotected. He was counting on it," Prentiss explained.

"And now he's got Hotch," Morgan said sadly with a head shake.

Rossi stroked his beard. "Y'know, something just occurred to me. The fact that Armitage took Hotch could, in a way, be a blessing for us in a strange sort of way."

"How so?" asked Prentiss. "You've seen what he does to his victims."

"I know. But think about it. He's been after Hotch for awhile. If he intended to kill him right away, Hotch would be dead by now, and we would have found his body. Armitage would have made sure of it. But he's going to want Hotch to suffer first. So he's going to take his time with him before he kills him like the others. That could give us a little extra time in which to find him before it's too late."

"Maybe," said Morgan. "But I hate to imagine what he's doing to Hotch right now. I remember what he did to Hotch the last time. This time it's probably gonna be worse. It wouldn't surprise me if Hotch is probably suffering unbelievable torture while in this guy's hands. I don't see how that's a good thing."

"I never said it was, Morgan. I just said it _might_ give us a little extra time in which to find Hotch before Armitage kills him."

"Wait a minute," Prentiss added. She snatched the sketch from the table, and looked from it to the image on the computer screen, and back to the sketch. She turned to the others. "This description JJ gave to the sketch artist might be our guy. She and I questioned this guy after the body of Anthony Barstow had been found near where he lived."

"You suspect it might have been Armitage?" asked Morgan.

"The man we questioned was a bit grayer around the temples, had a fuller face, and different color eyes," Prentiss explained. "But now that I can compare the two, this sketch could be Armitage. But that was not the name we had when JJ and I questioned him."

"What name was it?" asked Reid.

"Jason Armbrister."

Reid's eyes narrowed as he looked at the brunette woman. "But didn't you say at the time that Armbrister had proof he was in San Francisco visiting his ex-wife and children at the time of Barstow's murder?"

"From what I remember," Prentiss recalled. "And if he was in San Francisco, there's no way he killed Anthony Barstow." She paused as a frown appeared. "Then there's a possibility he might not be Jason Armitage, but just resemble him."

"Might Armitage have been wearing a disguise when you and JJ spoke with him?" asked Reid.

"It's possible," Prentiss replied. She looked at Rossi. "Does Armitage have any siblings?"

Rossi shrugged his shoulders. "Not that I recall."

Morgan pulled out his cell phone and dialed Garcia's number. He put the call on speaker.

"Yes, my chocolate love god, how can I be of help?" asked Garcia.

"You're on speaker. I need you to check out two names for me, mama. First, I need you to look up Jason Armitage and tell me everything you have on him." He heard her tapping on the keys as her fingers flew over the keyboard.

"Okay, I have the 411 on the why aren't you dead slime ball of the month. Jason Armitage was convicted over ten years ago for killing a man he believed killed his four-year-old son. The prosecuting attorney was Hotch."

"Believed, Garcia?" asked Reid. "So the man Armitage killed was never proven to be guilty?"

"No, my junior G-man. Apparently Armitage believed Hotch should have tried Randy Scofield for the death of his son, but Scofield was never charged or even arrested because there was no evidence. But Armitage took the law into his own hands, and killed Scofield, then accused Hotch of not doing his job by convicting him of murder instead of Scofield. He was sentenced to life without parole. Turns out later, the real killer, Bruce Wakens, age nineteen, was found and convicted, but by that time Armitage had escaped from prison and Hotch had joined the Bureau."

Reid looked at the others. "One would think Armitage would be grateful the real killer had been caught and convicted and turned himself in."

"But he did not do that," Garcia continued. "He still blamed Hotch for his conviction because he felt it was his conviction that led to his wife's death."

Rossi clasped his hands on top of the table. "Yeah, but, I remember Hotch telling me that Armitage killed his own wife. He then shot someone else in the face to make it appear a murder-suicide. The police said the murder-suicide was brought on by the death of their little boy. In reality, Armitage didn't want his wife to show he faked his own death as part of his plan to go after Hotch, so he killed her first. That was why nobody looked for him before he kidnapped Aaron the first time. He was believed to be dead."

"Score one for our resident Italian Stallion," Garcia added. "Who's the other scumbag of the month?"

"Baby girl, run a check on a Jason Armbrister," Morgan replied.

"Okay, Armbrister was divorced from his wife, Sharon, a year ago, and lost custody of both children. His ex-wife and kids now live in San Francisco. He has visitation once a week and every other weekend. The children also spend the summer with their father here in Santa Barbara"

"Garcia, do you have a photo of Armbrister?" asked Prentiss, a cold chill running down her spine.

"Sending one your waaaay…now." Everybody turned back toward the laptop computer with bated breath.

A photo of Jason Armbrister appeared on the screen.

"Oh my God," Prentiss said. "That is not the same man JJ and I interviewed. Not even close."

"Then that means the man calling himself Jason Armbrister was really Jason Armitage," said Reid, looking panicked for the first time. He was afraid what this revelation meant for Hotch. "Garcia, do you have an address for Armbrister?"

"Give me a hot minute," Garcia replied typing furiously.

"C'mon, sweetness," Morgan said. "Hotch may not have a minute."

"Watch your sexy mouth, hot stuff. I am faster than the speed of light. I just sent Armbrister's home address to your phones toot sweet. Now go save my liege."

The team all got to their feet, preparing to leave. Rossi stopped Reid by putting a hand on his chest. "Not you, Reid."

Reid glanced at the hand on his chest then looked at Rossi, eyes narrowed. "What? Why?"

"I know you want to be there for Hotch," Rossi explained. "But somebody needs to stay here with JJ. She might wake up and doesn't need to see nobody here that she knows. You understand me?"

Reid stuffed his hands in the pockets of his corduroy pants and sighed. He swallowed hard and nodded. "I understand," he said softly with a bowed head. The older man patted his shoulder and turned away. "Rossi?"

The older man stopped and turned toward the youngest agent. He looked at him in silent understanding. No words needed to be exchanged. "We'll save Hotch," he assured Reid. "You just take care of JJ. Make sure she stays here and knows we went to get Hotch." Reid nodded and watched the others quickly leave the room. He chewed his lower lip, and said a prayer the entire time for his boss and friend.

* * *

Armitage sat in his living room with a tumbler of Scotch in one hand. He was staring out the open window watching the approaching late evening. The lights in his living room were off, and the only light came from the motion lights he had installed outside the house. He took a sip of his drink, smirked, and shifted in his chair. Armitage would continue to torture Hotchner until he grew tired of it, and then kill him. He already decided he would not beat him about the head and face as he had the others. Didn't want to take the chance the man might die in his already weakened condition. No, he wanted Hotchner to be as conscious as possible when the time came to sever him at the waist. But he would use the carving knife first to do considerable more damage to the man before ending Hotchner's life. _You will feel every cut, every slice. You will suffer pain the likes of which you have never suffered, Aaron. And I will enjoy each moment._

He could tell Aaron Hotchner was not doing well. The man was weakening and giving in to the pain.

"I will break you, Aaron," Armitage said to nobody. "I will break you, and you will beg for death before I'm finished with you." He took another drink. Despite having had what he considered an enjoyable day of torturing the agent, he wanted more. He wished he had been able to take the blond agent with him as well. If he had, right now she would be in his bed. And he would be thrusting into her core over and over until she begged him to stop. The things he would make her do; not to mention the things he would do to her. She was so beautiful.

A grin appeared as he continued to fantasize about the blond. He would have enjoyed making her his sex slave; her sole purpose to service him whenever he wanted. He took another drink of Scotch as his thoughts turned back to Hotchner. Anger appeared on his face. Him not having the blond in his bed was Hotchner's fault; all his fault. If the man had only died ten years ago, he could have kidnapped Jennifer Jareau instead. By now he would be screwing her instead of dealing with scum like Aaron Hotchner. The man must be made to pay for depriving him of Agent Jareau. A slow smile appeared as an idea came to mind. Armitage down the rest of his Scotch, sat the empty tumbler on the table beside the chair, and got to his feet.

* * *

Hotch, try as he might, was unable relax his body enough to fall asleep. He was in so much pain he was unable to get comfortable no matter what, and his sleeping positions were restricted. Add to that, the Heretics fork and being restrained by wire, didn't allow for any movement on his part. That alone made it uncomfortable to rest. Also, he was just so exhausted he figured sleep would come easily, but it didn't, and it really didn't surprise him. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was JJ laying in the alleyway, nearly unconscious, blond hair shrouding her face. Not knowing if she was dead or alive frightened him. JJ had a small child and a husband who loved her very much. Also, she was like a sister to Hotch as well as a dear friend. He swallowed hard and prayed that JJ was alive and unhurt, or at least was not hurt too badly. He couldn't handle it if she was, and would blame himself as Armitage was after him and she obviously got in the way.

So absorbed in his thoughts, Hotch barely caught the sound of a door opening. As he let out a deep breath, his eyes shifted, and he caught a glimpse of Armitage standing in the doorway staring at him. The dim light from the hallway behind him framed the man enough to show he was holding a pail. Hotch dreaded whatever was in the pail sensing it wasn't going to be pleasurable for him. As Armitage stepped into the room, he turned on the overhead lights. Hotch stared at the ceiling.

"What. Do. You. Want. Now?" Hotch asked, his voice tired. He didn't really expect an answer, and it hurt just to talk. He didn't move his head, but the sound of footsteps got closer, and Hotch knew Armitage had entered the room. But the only thing Hotch did hear was a sloshing sound. And if it was what he suspected, he swallowed the growing lump in his throat. He only hoped the man didn't activate that Tucker telephone again after dousing him with what he suspected was water in the pail. What Hotch worried about now was if his guess was correct, suffering hypothermia after being doused with cold water. He was chilly enough as it was. If scalding hot water, he worried about being burned. Neither possibility thrilled him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Armitage now stood beside the head of the table, pure hatred on the man's face.

"What do you…want from me…now," Hotch stammered.

Armitage smirked as he looked Hotch in the face. "Still feisty, I see, Aaron. I'm glad in a way. It will make what I'm about to do next that much more enjoyable. You need to pay for prohibiting me from having the lovely Agent Jareau."

Hotch's eyes shifted and he glared at the man with a stare he saved for suspects he interrogated. "You keep away from her," Hotch hissed. "Don't you touch her! Do whatever you want to me, but leave her alone!"

Armitage smirked. He lifted the pail and doused the agent with water. Hotch, his mouth filled with water, sputtered and coughed. Chuckling, Armitage sat the pail on the floor as Hotch's arms and legs began to twitch violently as his muscles jerked. His back arched causing his hips to push upward off the table. Hotch wept, his entire body began to twitch and jerk as if having a convulsion. Unable to stop it, his head moved from side-to-side shaking as the Heretics fork dug in more, but Hotch seemed oblivious to it. Armitage chuckled as he watched. He suspected the agent was having what might be a non-epileptic seizure.(1)

Hotch's pelvis thrusted upward, and his arms and legs continued to twitch. After several minutes, and without warning, Hotch's body suddenly went completely limp, fell back, and lay still.

Armitage pressed two fingers against Hotch's throat and checked for a pulse. He frowned. Afterward, he slid the pail out of the way with his foot and stared at Hotch. He sighed as he realized his fun was finished. Now was the time to dispose of Aaron Hotchner for good. He walked over to the smaller table, and picked up the machete and the carving knife.

* * *

(1) A non-epileptic seizure is caused by extreme mental trauma. Symptoms include a thrusting pelvis followed by headache, confusion, and exhaustion. Also, twitching in arms and legs and jerking muscles for more than two minutes.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Armitage was busy examining the machete and the carving knives when he heard the sound. He turned and looked in the direction of his captive. There it was again! A slow smile appeared this time because the sound told him his fun would continue.

With an amused grin, Armitage looked back at the smaller table on which all his torture devices sat, and picked up the cattle prod. He then walked over to the larger table with the device, marveling at his good fortune. He looked down at Hotchner, and folded his arms over his chest.

"Glad you're still with us, Aaron," he chuckled. "I was afraid you had died on me, and that our fun was over when it had just begun."

A smirk appeared on Hotch's face although his eyes remained closed. "Wouldn't give… you the…satisfaction." His eyes opened a slit. Still unable to focus, he swallowed the lump which had formed in his throat. He knew he would not survive another bout of serious torture by Armitage. Every inch of his body hurt; his muscles were stiff, and his headache merciless. Even his breathing was shallow. The voice in his head kept telling him the only way to avoid more pain, was to let himself die. But whenever those thoughts permeated his mind, images of Jack pushed through to the front of his mind. Hotch had to hold on for Jack until his last breath. He refused to give up; not when Jack counted on his daddy coming home. He took a deep breath and swallowed.

"Go. To. Hell," he struggled to get the words out with as much authority as possible given his weakened condition.

Armitage chuckled. "Still defiant, eh? Well, we'll soon knock that defiance right out of you." He held up the cattle prod, and noticed the agent's face stay impassive. He assumed by the lack of expression, Hotch was trying to show he was still in control. In reality, Hotch was too exhausted and in too much pain to care anymore. With a smirk, Armitage jabbed the metal tips of the cattle prod into Hotch's exposed side sending a high-voltage, low-current shock into his body.

The agent hissed in agony, biting his lower lip so hard, a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. Hotch knew the shock wasn't strong enough to kill him, but would cause significant pain. Tears ran from the corners of both eyes causing Armitage to chuckle seeing the great Aaron Hotchner reduced to tears. He jabbed him again in the area of his damaged kneecap which was by now, horribly swollen, painful, and turning a multitude of deep colors. Hotch screamed when the metal tips made contact with the knee. He screamed again as the metal tips next touched his testicles one at a time.

"Had enough, Aaron?" Armitage asked with a smirk. "Just say yes and I will get my carving knife and machete. I promise I'll put you out of your misery. Just say the word and all your pain will end."

Hotch gasped for air. He couldn't take anymore. He wanted the pain to end. _I'm sorry, Jack. I tried. I really, really tried. But it hurts so much. _He licked his dry lips and shifted his eyes to Armitage, ready to say 'yes' so the pain would end. But when he met his captor's eyes, there was determination on his face.

"I…can…take it," he whispered. He screamed again and again. After about five minutes, the shocks stopped, and Hotch let out a deep breath as tears ran from the corners of his eyes.

"Can you still take it, Aaron?" Armitage asked, chuckling. Even he had to admit the agent impressed him with his endurance and tolerance for pain. "Tell me, are you ready to say yes?"

Hotch swallowed. "No," he said, his voice husky. He knew he was losing his fight to hang on, and beginning to doubt his team would find him before it was too late. But he refused to blame them. He would never blame them. They were the best, and he would miss them. His only hope was that they would not let themselves be consumed with guilt over not being able to save him. He wouldn't want that for them. Hotch hissed after receiving another shock. _Dave, I trust you with my team. Take care of them for me. Take care of yourself. And don't blame yourself or let the team blame themselves. None of you are to blame._ Hotch screamed again. His face was bathed in sweat as was his entire body. _Look after Haley and Jack for_ me.

"C'mon, Aaron. Let go. There's nobody here you need to impress. I promise I will end your pain and suffering."

"I…can…take…it…" Hotch stammered.

With a sneer on his face, Armitage sighed. "Tell you what. I'm going to show you mercy, and end your pain and misery anyway. It's time for us to part ways, Aaron. But, I'll give you a minute or two to make peace with your maker." He turned and walked back to the table. As he did so, he activated the remote control television and stared at the screen for a few seconds making certain nobody was approaching his house. Satisfied, he walked over to the smaller table and as he lay the cattle prod down, he began to whistle. He reached for the carving knife and the machete.

* * *

Rossi, Morgan and Prentiss were in their SUV leading the way, while Detective Parsons and several officers, in another vehicle, followed theirs. And just behind them, in a separate vehicle, were several fully armed members of SWAT. The vehicles stopped in the woods, just out of sight of Armbrister's house, and everybody got out. The agents, except for Prentiss, were putting on their Kevlar vests as the LEOs approached them. Parsons watched Rossi as he put on his vest with 'police' emblazoned on it in white lettering. Rossi put a hand on the detective's arm stopping him.

"Don't put on your vest," the older man said.

Parsons was puzzled. "Why not? And why did we stop out here in the woods near the house out of sight?" the detective asked. "Shouldn't we be right in front and get ready to breach the house?"

"Because he has a closed circuit television," Prentiss explained. "JJ and I both noticed the sensors outside the day we interviewed him. If we pulled up directly in front of the house, he'll spot us coming. And it might cause him to react by killing Hotch before we get in there."

"Then what are we gonna do?" Parsons looked at her for further information.

"We have an idea which might work," Morgan began. "But it requires a bit of role-playing on your part."

Parsons looked from one agent to the other. "What do you need me to do?"

* * *

Armitage stood beside the table looking down at a barely conscious Aaron Hotchner and holding the carving knife in his hand. Hotch's eyes appeared to be staring at the shiny blade being waved in front of him.

"This should be sharp enough." He placed the tip in the center of Hotch's chest. That said, Armitage brought the blade downward leaving a thin line of red in it's wake from Hotch's upper chest to his navel. Armitage chuckled and looked at Hotch. "I think it's time to begin removing pieces of you, Aaron." He held the knife over Hotch's chest as if debating where to gouge first. He decided after a few seconds, and placed the tip of the blade at the outer edge of the aureola. "Think I'll start by removing your left nipple." The agent's body tensed under the pressure of the blade being pressed down about to cut, when something caught Armitage's eye causing him to stop before he cut. Looking up, his eyes fell on the screen as a black SUV pulled up in front of his house.

"Shit!" Armitage muttered under his breath. "What do they want now?"

Despite the pain from the Heretics fork, Hotch turned his head as much as possible. He saw what looked like an SUV which he recognized as belonging to the BAU. A small smile appeared. He continued to watch as Prentiss and Detective Parsons exited the vehicle and approached the residence.

"Em…ly," Hotch whispered. The tension started to leave his body. He suspected the rest of his team were on the premises. Armitage glared at Hotch, angry at being interrupted. He slammed the carving knife on the table beside Hotch.

"Looks like you got yourself a short reprieve, Aaron. Unless my memory is mistaken, I believe that is the lovely Agent Prentiss with Detective Parsons." He reached behind him, and untied the straps of his apron, then pulled the apron over his head. "I can't have them finding you down here so I'd best go upstairs and find out what they want." He walked in the direction of the smaller table and grabbed a role of duct tape, ripping off a strip. After putting down the roll, he walked back to Hotch, and covered his mouth with the tape. "This will make sure you can't warn anybody or try and attract attention. I mean, I know this room is soundproof, but why take chances." Armitage then leaned over Hotch and brought his mouth close to his ear. "I won't be long, Aaron," he murmured. "And when I return, I will pick up where I left off with you." Armitage then turned, tossed the leather apron across Hotch's ankles, and left the room to return upstairs.

* * *

Parsons looked around the outside of the house as he and Prentiss waited. "I hope this works," he said softly.

"It had better," Prentiss replied just as softly. "If it doesn't, Hotch is as good as dead." Prentiss and Parsons both reached inside their jackets for their credentials when the door opened. "Mr. Armbrister? I'm Agent Prentiss. And this is Detective Parsons. You might remember me from a few days ago when I was here with another agent to ask you a few questions about Anthony Barstow." She put away her credentials.

Armitage smiled charmingly. He feigned trying to remember. "Oh right. You were here with that blond agent. What was her name? Jareau I think it was?"

"Yes. Detective Parsons and I have a few more questions. May we come inside and speak with you?" The expression on the man's face told Prentiss he wanted to deny them entry into his home. This told her he probably had Hotch a prisoner somewhere in this house.

"I'm afraid it's not a good time. I uh…I'm about to head out. I'm meeting a friend for dinner."

Prentiss' face remained impassive. "This won't take long. It's just a few follow-up questions really."

Armitage glanced at the detective. "I'm afraid we must insist," Parsons said with hands in both pockets.

Armitage began to suspect something wasn't right about this situation. He stared at the brunette woman. "Agent Prentiss is it? I'd really like to answer your questions, but I am running late. So perhaps you can come back tomorrow morning. Or I can come to police headquarters in the morning."

"That's not going to happen, Mr. Armbrister," Parsons assured the man. "Now, we can either talk here, or we can talk at police headquarters. Your choice."

Armitage let out a deep breath suspecting he'd be better off answering their questions here. Hopefully, things wouldn't take too long and he could return to Hotch and resume gorging out chunks of the man's body before cutting him in half. With a deep sigh, he stood aside and allowed the duo to enter his living room and closed the door.

* * *

Rossi and Morgan, followed by several members of SWAT, quietly made their way around to the back of the house after observing Prentiss and Parsons enter the residence. The agents held their Glocks in one hand, and maglites in the other. The SWAT members had their weapons pointed in front of them at the ready.

"Here's hoping they can keep Armitage busy long enough for us to get inside and find Hotch," Morgan said.

"And if they can't?" Rossi asked warily.

Morgan looked at the man and sighed. "Then us and Hotch are in a lotta trouble." He continued to walk side-by-side with Rossi hoping to find an entrance into the house without arousing Armitage. Suddenly, Morgan's eyes narrowed. "Rossi…"

"What?" the older man asked.

"Check this out, man." Morgan knelt down beside a basement door at the back of the house. He ran a hand over the door.

"Is that made of steel?" asked Rossi with narrowed eyes, light shining on the basement door.

"Looks like it," Morgan agreed. "But it's newer than the rest of the house." He looked up at Rossi. "Besides, how many houses do you know have exterior basement doors made of steel when the house itself is brick?"

"None that I know of," Rossi concurred.

Morgan reached inside his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed Garcia's number and pressed the phone to his ear.

"How can I be of service oh Chocolate God of Thunder?" Garcia asked.

"Garcia, I need you to check something for me."

"For you…anything. What can I find for you?"

"Check and see if Jason Armbrister filed any permits to make renovations to his home. There's a basement door in the back of his house made of steel. I'll hold."

"Just give me a few minutes, my love." Her fingers typed furiously. "Sorry. But there are no permits applied for allowing any renovations to be done on the premises. But according to what I found, the basement door of the house was made of plywood and not steel."

"Thanks, mama," Morgan replied before ending the call and putting his cell back in his pocket. He looked at Rossi. "There are no permits filed for renovations," he said. "We need to open that basement door if we're gonna find out what's inside that basement." He looked at one of the SWAT members and motioned him forward. "Can you open this lock?" he asked.

The man nodded, hung the strap of his assault rifle over his shoulder, and removed a small, slender piece of metal from his pocket. He knelt in front of the lock on the steel door, held the small lock in one hand, and inserted the special tip into the tumbler of the lock. He maneuvered the piece of metal until he heard the click of the lock indicating it had opened. The man looked back at Morgan and nodded. Morgan and Rossi each grabbed a handle of the door and pulled. They shined their maglites down the darkened steps. Morgan and Rossi slowly proceeded down the steps letting the beams of their maglites highlight the way. Several members of SWAT followed.

* * *

Hotch closed his eyes for a minute and let out a deep breath against the tape. The longer Armitage was gone, the better. He wondered what Emily was up to and where Rossi, Morgan, JJ and Reid were. If these were his final minutes alive on earth, Hotch wished for two things. One, to tell Jack and Haley how much he loved both of them. And two, to tell his team how proud he was of them. He would miss each and every one of them.

He closed his eyes again as he prepared himself for the painful death he knew would be coming the moment Prentiss and Parsons left the house. This time gave Hotch a chance to reflect on his life for any regrets. He found he only had one. And that was he hadn't told his team how much each of their friendships meant to him, and how much he loved them. He let out a deep breath as much as the tape covering his mouth allowed. A sense of inner peace permeated his body. _I'm so sorry, Jack. I'm so sorry. Haley, I love you both always._

Suddenly Hotch sensed he wasn't alone. He was unable to put his finger on what it was, but knew somebody was close by. _Could the team be here?_ He smiled behind the tape. He wanted to shout "I'm in here!" hoping they would hear him, but couldn't. All he could do was pray that whoever it was, would find him before Armitage came back.

* * *

Rossi and Morgan found themselves face-to-face with another steel door after walking down a corridor. They noticed the corridor was insulated. Morgan, with a glance at Rossi, gripped the handle and pulled, opening the door slowly. The duo, weapons aimed, tentatively entered the room. They froze in horror at the sight which greeted their eyes.

"Oh My God," Rossi echoed with wide eyes while Morgan stared in horror.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"Oh My God!" Rossi cried out again. "Hotch!"

He and Morgan hurried forward, both holstering their weapons, and several SWAT swarmed in behind them into the room. With Hotch so quiet and still, Rossi feared they were too late. He decided to take a chance, and removed the strip of tape covering his friend's mouth, then undid the strap of the Heretics fork, and tossed it aside. As he did so, Hotch groaned and opened his eyes a slit. He smiled weakly up at Rossi who gently cupped his cheeks in his hands, mindful of the cuts, and turned his friend's head toward him. He smiled with moist eyes as Hotch looked back at him.

"Aaron," Rossi chuckled struggling to keep his emotions in check. "Can't leave you alone for a minute without you getting into trouble, can I? You're worse than Reid."

"Dave…" Hotch said weakly with a faint smile of his own. "Knew you'd…come for me."

Rossi gently lay Hotch's head back on the table. "Keep still and let us get these wires off of you." He looked at the blood stains on the palms of his hands. Wiping his hands on the legs of his jeans, Rossi turned his attention to the wires binding his friend's ankles. His eyes fell on the grossly swollen left knee. "Morgan…"

Morgan, having freed Hotch's wrists, turned to Rossi only to notice at what the man was looking. He winced at the sight of Hotch's knee, and suspected it probably was broken or displaced. He glanced at Rossi. As the older man worked on the wires binding Hotch's ankles, Morgan looked at the wires attached to his boss's genitalia.

"Rossi, what the hell is this thing?" he asked staring at the torture device sitting on the table beside Hotch's legs.

"We can ask Reid later," Rossi assured him. He looked at one of the SWAT team. "Call for an ambulance!" he ordered.

Morgan's eyes returned to Hotch who seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness. He licked his lips. "Hotch, I need to get these wires off of your private parts. But to do that…" He knew Hotch would be thoroughly embarrassed to be seen naked in front of any member of his team, male or female. The man was not ashamed of his body. But he didn't want to have someone touch his private area other than his wife.

Hotch sensed Morgan's hesitance and swallowed. His throat was so dry and his mouth parched. "Just…do it. Can be…embarrassed…later…"

Morgan nodded and carefully started to undo the wires fastened first around Hotch's penis. He winced at seeing the burn marks left by the wires and the cattle prod. After a few seconds he had the wires undone, and felt Rossi touch his arm. He looked at the older man who picked up the leather apron, and covered Hotch's groin, mindful not to let the leather come in contact with the damaged knee. Morgan bowed and shook his head, then looked up at the ceiling, tears in his eyes and lower lip quivering. With a deep breath, he turned to the older man.

"Rossi, how's Hotch suppose to recover from this? I mean, look at 'im. He's got that bastard's initials carved into both cheeks. He's got burns on his body including his private parts, his feet have been whipped, his knee is possibly broken, and he's got fingerprints on his throat. What are we gonna do?"

Rossi gripped Morgan's shoulder and squeezed. "I'll tell you what we're gonna do. We're gonna be there for him just like always. We'll get him through this, Derek. Aaron is strong and he's not a quitter. He'll survive this and recover. You'll see."

Morgan took in and let out a deep breath. "I hope Armitage tries something when we take him into custody. One well placed bullet in that bastard's skull will save the taxpayers the cost of a trial."

"No. Mor...gan…" Hotch slowly turned his head toward his subordinate. "No re…venge. Not who…we are…"

Morgan looked at his boss and chewed his lower lip. "I can't help it, Hotch. What this bastard did to you ten years ago was bad enough. But this…" he couldn't finish. Hotch thought he understood. Hell, he'd feel the same way if this had been done to one of his team. He shifted his eyes to Rossi who nodded his understanding.

Rossi gripped Morgan by both shoulders and turned him so the two men faced each other. "Derek, listen to me. Armitage will pay for what he's done. But right now Hotch needs us." He relaxed a bit when Morgan slowly nodded his head and let out a deep breath. Just then, the wail of a siren was heard in the distance. "Go upstairs. Help Emily and Parsons. Once this guy hears the sirens, there's no telling what he's liable to do. I'll take care of Aaron." Morgan's hesitated. "Go!" Rossi added.

With a last glance at Hotch, Morgan knew Rossi was right. Hotch didn't teach them to be vigilantes. He taught them to be upholders of the law, and not let their emotions dictate their actions. Morgan nodded and headed toward the door Armitage had used earlier. After he had gone, Rossi turned his attention back to Hotch and gently stroked his dark hair as a father would his young child. The siren got louder indicating the ambulance was getting closer. Rossi looked at one of the SWAT team.

"Go back the way we came, and show the paramedics the way down here." He turned back to Hotch. "Listen to me, Aaron," he said in a soothing voice. "You're gonna be as good as new in a few weeks. Just give yourself the time to heal."

Hotch's smile came out more as a grimace. He was so tired he found it difficult to keep his eyes open. "Promise?"

"I promise." Rossi's attention was caught by three paramedics as they entered the room, two of them pulling a stretcher with a backboard on it between them. They approached the table on which Hotch lay, now barely conscious.

"Be careful with him," Rossi advised. "His knee might be broken and his feet have been whipped badly. I don't know if they're broken or not."

"We'll take good care of him, sir," one paramedic told him as they rolled the stretcher beside the table. "We have a team standing by at the hospital." He and his partner prepared to slide Hotch onto the backboard so they wouldn't jiggle his injured knee.

"Good," Rossi said, showing a stare that would rival Hotch's. "When you're ready to transport him, I'm riding with you, and it's not up for discussion."

* * *

Armitage heard the wail of the siren and understood at once what it meant as the sound grew closer. It told him an ambulance was approaching his home. In other words, the gig was up as they say. He smirked as he now looked at Parsons and Prentiss.

"What's so funny?" asked Prentiss, her face serious. She found herself not liking this man at all.

"You, Agent Prentiss," Armitage said. "This was all a stall tactic, wasn't it?"

"What makes you say that?" asked Parsons.

Armitage glanced at the detective and chose to ignore him. Instead, he turned his full attention back to the brunette woman. "You think a hospital is going to keep me from your precious Agent Hotchner, Emily? May I call you Emily?"

Prentiss' face remained impassive. "It's Agent Prentiss to you, Armitage."

Armitage chuckled as he slowly got to his feet as did Prentiss and Parsons, their eyes focused on the man.

"So you found out who I am. Bravo. Too bad you didn't figure that out before Aaron endured so much pain. Though I must thank you for giving me that time alone with him. I so enjoyed it." He let out a deep breath. "So you got here before I finished with Aaron. But he'll never get over what I've done to him. He'll never be the same man again. I've seen to that." He reached a hand into his pocket.

"Don't do that," Parsons suggested as he and Prentiss both drew their weapons and aimed them.

"Take your hand out of your pocket," Prentiss ordered. She hoped to take the bastard alive, but if not, she was okay with that.

Armitage never removed his hand from his pocket. "You think you can keep me from Agent Hotchner?" He chuckled. "You can't. I will never stop coming after him until he's dead. You can't save him. Nobody can."

"I'd rethink that if I were you," a voice said from behind Armitage. The man smirked but didn't turn around as he already figured out who it was.

"Agent Morgan. How nice of you to join us. Tell me, how's Aaron? Is he in much pain?"

Morgan ground his lower jaw in anger. "You know he is, you bastard! Now put up your hands where we can see 'em!" His finger tightened on the trigger.

Armitage didn't move. He grinned deviously keeping his back to Morgan. "Can't do that, agent. I will never leave Aaron alone. Never. I will get to him in the hospital. He will never set foot outside…" his fingers dug further into his pocket and a shot was fired. Armitage smirked at Prentiss. "I'll see Agent Hotchner in hell," he said before his knees buckled. His body collapsed in a heap on the floor, blood pooling around his body.

As Prentiss and Parsons warily stepped closer with weapons pointed downward, Emily glanced up at Morgan. There was a faint puff of smoke emanating from the business end of his Glock. His eyes were hard and cold as he glared at the body. Prentiss knelt down and pulled Armitage's hand from his pocket. Clutched in his hand was a small caliber weapon. She picked up the weapon and handed it to Parsons, then pressed two fingers against Armitage's throat. She looked up at Morgan and shook her head indicating the man was dead. Prentiss wouldn't swear to it, but she believed Morgan had a smile on his face hearing the news.

"Did you find Hotch?" Prentiss asked tucking her weapon in her holster looking at Morgan, concern on her face.

"We did. He's in bad shape," Morgan replied. "To be honest, Prentiss, I don't know if he's gonna recover from this." As he described their boss's injuries, a look of horror appeared on Emily's face as she listened. He could tell that she wanted to go to the hospital and be with Hotch as did he. But somebody had to stay and help the police with the details of what happened. "Emily, go. They're downstairs. I'm sure Rossi's gonna need somebody to be with him right now. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Prentiss smiled her thanks and headed toward the door Morgan had come through earlier. "I'll contact JJ and Reid when we're on our way. You'd better call Garcia and let her know we found Hotch."

"I will…after we find out what condition he's in," Morgan assured her.

Prentiss nodded and disappeared through the door and hurried downstairs. By the time she reached the room, Hotch was secured to a gurney with a white sheet covering him up to his shoulders. There was a cervical collar around his neck to keep his head still. He appeared to be unconscious. Two paramedics were pulling the stretcher toward the door which would lead them back to the outdoors where an ambulance was waiting. She saw Rossi was behind the stretcher.

"Rossi!"

The older man turned to see Prentiss hurrying toward him. "How is he?" she asked.

Rossi bit his lower lip and wrapped an arm around Emily's shoulders. "He's hanging in so far, kiddo. But it doesn't look good."

"Morgan told me what happened. Hotch will be all right. He's strong and he's tough. He'll recover from this. You just got to have a little faith."

"Sir, are you coming?" asked the paramedic who was pushing the stretcher from behind while the one in front pulled.

"We're right behind you," Rossi told him. He gripped Emily's shoulders tighter as the two of them followed the paramedics out of the room. Try as he might, his quivering lower lip didn't escape Emily's observant eyes.

"I've never seen you scared before," she said gently. "Is Hotch's condition worse than what Morgan told me?"

Rossi let out a deep breath. "I don't know," he replied. "But his knee and feet injuries worry me the most. It's possible he may lose the full use of his knee and be crippled for the rest of his life. Or, the injuries to his feet may put him in a wheelchair for the rest of his life." They followed the stretcher outside to where the ambulance was parked. They watched as the paramedics started to load the stretcher inside the vehicle.

"You can't think like that. And whatever happens, he's alive and he's safe. Also, Armitage will never hurt him again. He's dead. Morgan shot him."

"Good," Rossi replied in a low voice. Right now, the older man didn't care if Morgan shot Armitage on purpose or not. He couldn't deal with that right now. All that mattered at this moment was Aaron Hotchner. Once the stretcher was loaded in the back, the two paramedics climbed inside and tended to their patient. Rossi looked at Emily as she pulled away from him.

"You go on ahead. I'll follow you in the car. Hotch doesn't need everybody hovering over him in the ambulance."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"You coming?" asked one of the two paramedics. "We need to get going."

Rossi glanced at Prentiss one last time before he climbed inside the back of the ambulance and closed the door behind him. He sat beside Hotch but kept out of the way of the paramedics so they could work on his best friend. Rossi reached out and gripped one of Hotch's hands in both of his. He ran both thumbs over the back of his friend's hand as the vehicle pulled away and headed to the hospital.

"You're gonna be okay, Aaron. Trust me. And no matter how long it takes, I'm gonna be right beside you all the way. The entire team will." He didn't want to tell Hotch about Armitage's death yet. His friend would want…no, _demand, _to be told if Morgan shot the man in cold blood. And that would only impede in his recovery. "You have to keep fighting. And if I suspect you're giving up, I will personally kick your ass myself. You can count on it."


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Sorry I can't update sooner on both my stories. But my left hand hurts so much I find I sometimes need to not write for 2 or 3 days to let the pain subside. I have an appointment in 2 weeks with a doctor. Also, with this particular chapter, and possibly several subsequent chapters, I had to wait for the answers to medical questions I had from a Urologist and a medical doctor, and that took time. I realize some people will be upset. Sorry. Again, I will try and update as often as I can on both stories.**

**Chapter 22**

Emily Prentiss found David Rossi in the waiting room pacing back and forth. He was rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. His other was stuffed in one pocket of his jeans. The look on his face scared her. Since she'd known him, she never recalled seeing the older man so frightened before, and it worried her greatly.

"Rossi!" she shouted. The older man stopped his pacing and looked in her direction. "How's Hotch? Is there any news?" she asked.

Rossi let out a deep breath facing her. "Nothing. He was rushed into an examination room the moment we arrived." He stood facing her, ran a hand down the back of his hair, and let out another deep breath. "You should have seen 'im in the ambulance," his lower lip quivered. "We lost him twice, but they brought 'im back. Also, his body was spasming the entire time." He bowed his head and shook it. "Emily, for the first time in my life, I'm afraid." He raised his head and looked at the woman. "We could actually lose him this time."

Prentiss touched the older man's shoulder. "Stop it, Rossi. Just stop it. Hotch is and always has been a fighter. And this time will be no different. He will fight with everything he's got," she said as she led them both to the row of plastic chairs against the wall, and sat down side-by-side, facing each other. "We just can't give up on him." She paused when the older man nodded. "I spoke with Reid while driving here. He and JJ are on their way. Morgan promised he'd call Garcia," she added.

Rossi nodded and shifted on the hard, uncomfortable chair. He placed both elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands, letting them hang between his knees. He hung his head. "Thanks. I'm just so worried about Hotch after what that bastard did to 'im. I don't know what I'm going to tell Haley and Jack if he doesn't make it."

"He'll make it," Prentiss assured him patting his knee gently. She offered Rossi a reassuring smile when he offered her one of his own.

An hour later, they were still waiting when they heard a commotion at the opposite end of the hall. They turned hoping somebody was approaching who might be able to tell them what was happening with their friend. Instead, they spotted Reid and JJ hurrying toward them. Prentiss got to her feet to greet them, her eyes focused on the blond who appeared to look better than when she had last seen her. She gestured for the blond to take her seat.

"I'm fine," JJ said ignoring the gesture though appreciative. Her eyes were focused on her friends.

"Any news on Hotch?" asked Reid.

"Not yet," Prentiss said. She then repeated what Rossi had told her. JJ and Reid both wince as they listened. "How are you doing, JJ?" Prentiss asked.

"I'm all right," JJ explained again, brushing a long strand of hair over her shoulder as she sat down next to Rossi. "It's Hotch I'm worried about right now." The blond slowly sat in the seat earlier occupied by Prentiss. She put a hand on Rossi's shoulder. "How are you holding up, Rossi?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," the older man replied. "I just wish somebody would tell us something. It's been over an hour."

"Where's Morgan?" asked Reid not seeing his best friend. He sat beside JJ.

"He's helping at the crime scene," Prentiss explained sitting on the opposite side of Rossi. "He said he'll be here as soon as he can."

"Did anybody contact Garcia?" JJ asked looking back and forth between Rossi and Emily.

"Morgan said he'd contact both her and Haley," Prentiss added.

JJ was about to ask another question when the brunette woman's eyes looked past her, and the blond turned her head. A woman wearing her gray hair up in a bun in the back of her head, was walking briskly in their direction. Her facial expression showed nothing. The four agents quickly got to their feet with worried expressions on their faces.

"Family of Aaron Hotchner?" the woman asked, hazel eyes darting from one to the other of the small group.

"That's Agent Hotchner," Rossi corrected the woman gently. "How is he?"

"And you are?" Fleming asked studying the man in front of her.

"Agent David Rossi." Rossi produced his credentials for the woman. He was not in the mood for games. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

"Are you a member of Agent Hotchner's immediate family?"

"No." Rossi struggled to control his rising temper. "His wife is back in Quantico, Virginia, and she's on her way. But I am authorized to handle any and all decisions pertaining to Agent Hotchner's health in the absence of his spouse. Whatever you have to say you can say in front of all of us. He is not only our boss, but our friend."

The woman looked Rossi up-and-down before deciding this man would tell the others anyway, so it might be better to update the entire group.

"I am Doctor Sylvia Fleming. Let me begin by saying that Agent Hotchner is a lucky man. He is in no danger of dying and his heart is fine. First, I'll start with the obvious injuries, and they are many, but none are life-threatening. An x-ray showed his left knee is displaced but not broken, so he won't need surgery to repair it. As we were unable right now to straighten out the knee, we've stabilized it with a splint. The ligaments and cartilage are bruised, but not damaged, so they should heal in time. If necessary, we'll put the knee in a cast for three weeks and then begin physical therapy."

"Will he regain full use of his knee?" asked a worried JJ.

"He should. But he'll have a long, painful road ahead of him."

"How about his feet?" asked Prentiss.

"His feet are a problem. There is damage to the tissue, but no broken bones thankfully. Both feet will need a soft cast which he'll have to wear for at least six weeks. But they should heal in time. The punctures on his chin and upper chest, and the cut on his chest were treated with a medicated ointment and covered with gauze. The carvings on his face were also treated with a medicated ointment and must be allowed to heal for six weeks before plastic surgery can even be considered. We will be monitoring him for infections. But it's the electric shocks his body has suffered that worry me the most."

"How so?" asked Rossi.

Fleming cleared her throat and avoided looking at JJ and Prentiss. Rossi understood, and looked at JJ and Prentiss. His eyes asked the two women to give them a little privacy. Both women opened their mouths to protest, but shut them right away instead and nod. Prentiss led the way to a far corner out of hearing range where she and JJ watched.

Fleming took a deep breath. "Fortunately for Agent Hotchner, the electrical shocks he received did not affect his heart in any way as I said. The current ran away from the heart and toward the genitalia. To be perfectly honest, Agent Rossi, if those shocks had been directed toward his heart, he would be dead."

A small smile appeared on Reid's face, but Rossi sensed the worse was still to come. "What aren't you telling us?" he asked.

Fleming hesitated. She knew what she had to tell them would not be easy to accept much less hear.

"Agent Hotchner suffered burns on his penis and testicles with direct tissue damage. The first treatment will be debridement in which we will surgically remove all the dead tissue. That will be followed by pain management, fluid resuscitation, antibiotics and whatever other measures may be necessary. I have asked our best urologist, Dr. Simon Betters, to take over Agent Hotchner's case for that aspect of his care only. I will handle the other injuries. Dr. Betters will be out to speak with you after he finishes his examination."

"What will he be looking for with his examination?" asked a worried Rossi.

Before Fleming opened her mouth, Reid beat her to it. "Examinations of the penis and scrotum are typically done with a direct examination," he said waving his hands around as he became excited. "They'll do a scrotal ultrasound and maybe a CT or MRI scan to check for fractures or dislocations." He saw Fleming's face, and shut his mouth, looking embarrassed. His eyes looked at the floor. "Sorry," he murmured softly.

Fleming looked at the younger agent, impressed. It took her a few minutes to gather herself enough to continue. "That is not Agent Hotchner's only problem."

"There's more?" Rossi asked. How much worse could things get for Hotch?

"As I said, Agent Hotchner suffered burns on the skin of his penis and testicles, but there can also be some deeper in the muscle, along with nerve tissue damage which, if found, can lead to long term problems."

"What problems?" asked Rossi, not liking where this discussion was heading.

"There's a chance he might suffer complete loss of of his sexual organs, meaning he, as a man, could no longer become aroused sexually," Reid added quietly.

Reid noticed Rossi was staring at him. The older man then turned toward Fleming. "Your friend is correct. Agent Hotchner might permanently lose all ability of becoming sexually aroused and unable to have sex again. He might even be forced to use a catheter for the rest of his life." Rossi closed his eyes momentarily and grimaced. He didn't even want to imagine how his friend would handle this. And if he had to use a catheter he would be finished as a field agent. But worse than that would be how would he handle not being able to be a man.

"But something can be done, can't it?" Rossi asked Fleming. "I mean, you can fix it, can't you?"

Fleming sighed. "I can't answer that," she replied grimly. "All we can do is wait and hope. A rare number of men do make a complete recovery, but many don't. Only time will tell in which category Agent Hotchner will fall. Now if you'll excuse me, I must return to my patient. Dr. Betters will be out soon as he can." She started to turn away, but was stopped by Rossi's hand on her arm. She looked at the agent not without compassion.

"Doctor Fleming, tell us honestly. What are the chances that Agent Hotchner will regain full function?"

The doctor bit her lower lip before she answered. "I wish I can give you a positive yes or no answer, but I can't. There is just no way to know."

Reid's lower lip quivered and his eyes were moist. "But his work is everything to him. None of us know what he'll do if he can't do his job."

"I understand that, and I sympathize. Believe me I do. But only time will tell how much he'll recover. And now, I really must return to my patient."

Rossi sighed as Fleming turned and walked away. JJ and Prentiss approached the two men wanting to know what was discussed. Rossi reluctantly repeated what the doctor had said. JJ covered her mouth with a hand while Emily gasped in horror.

"Is…is there anything they can do?" Emily asked haltingly. "What I mean is…this can't be permanent, can it?"

"It might be," Reid explained slowly. "Only time will tell."

"Only time will tell what?" a familiar voice asked. Everybody turned to find the concerned face of one Derek Morgan staring at his friends. "I just got here," he said. "What's going on?"

Once again, Rossi repeated what they had been told. Morgan grimaced as he listened. Rossi watched the man grind his lower jaw. When he finished, he saw Morgan run a hand over his bald dome as he turned his back and walk away from him. Without warning, Morgan balled his fist and punched the wall so hard Rossi was afraid the black agent might have broken his hand.

Reid warily approached his best friend. "Morgan…take it easy." He stepped back when Morgan turned on him, face full of anger.

"Don't tell me what to feel, Reid," he hissed pointing a finger at the younger man. "Because of that worthless piece of shit, Hotch might not be able to…man, I can't even say it."

Rossi sighed and put a hand on Morgan's shoulder. "I know how you feel, Derek. But we'll get Hotch through this no matter how long it takes."

Morgan spun around and glared at the older man. "Get him through this? How do you propose we do that, Rossi?" he hissed. "How do you propose we help Hotch get through not feeling like a man? Please tell me how one does that?" He clenched and unclenched his fists hanging at his sides.

"Stop it!" JJ said stepping between the two men. "Just s_top it! _Fighting among ourselves isn't going to help Hotch. He's going to need us no matter what, and we need to be there for him even if he doesn't want us to be."

"JJ's right," Prentiss agreed. "Hotch is going to need us more than ever. Which reminds me. Morgan, did you contact Garcia?"

Morgan looked at the brunette. "Yeah. She said she'll pick up Haley and explain everything to her. They'll both be on the next flight out, and should be here in a few hours." He face softened as he again faced Rossi. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to blow up at you like I did. It's just…it's just that when I think about what Hotch might lose, I wish I could kill that bastard again."

Rossi allowed a small smile to appear. "No apology necessary. We're all angry right now. But Hotch has a chance although a slim one. And as long as there's a chance, we can't let him give up."

"Family of Aaron Hotchner?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

Morgan, Rossi, Reid, JJ and Prentiss gathered around the doctor whose name-tag read: Dr. S. Betters.

"That's us," Rossi stated eying the man with the dirty blond hair somewhere in his forties. "How is Aaron Hotchner?"

"Excuse me, but I really should be discussing this with the wife. Is Mrs. Hotchner here?"

"She's on her way from Virgina, but won't be here for a few hours yet," Rossi stated. "In her absence, I make any decisions on Agent Hotchner's health. I'm David Rossi."

Betters studied the unusual group curiously. He had heard from Sylvia Fleming that these people were Hotchner's family as well as his coworkers. One look at them told Betters she was right. He shook hands with Rossi.

"I'm Dr. Betters. I'm the urologist who will be handling Agent Hotchner's case involving the damage to his genital area." His eyes shifted to JJ and Emily. "Uh…perhaps you ladies might want to uh…"

"Just tell us," Prentiss insisted. Her dark eyes indicated she was serious. The doctor nodded.

"Very well," Betters said. "Agent Hotchner suffered second-degree burns in his genital area. Keep in mind that while the burns themselves are not serious, nor are they minor. We have treated them with a topical antibiotic ointment and applied a dressing to them. We'll have to wait and see if it's enough. If not, we'll have to surgically remove all the dead tissue. His testicles are not only bruised but burned as well, and as of the moment, he has no feeling in his genitals at all."

"Oh God!" JJ cried covering her mouth with one hand and closing her eyes.

Betters licked his lips and then continued. "I had him undergo a scrotal ultrasound to check for any burns within the muscles themselves, as well as tissue damage which can lead to long-term problems. He suffered tissue loss, and right now he has lost all use of his genitalia."

Rossi ran both hands down his face and let out a deep breath. This couldn't be happening. "Doctor, what are the chances that Agent Hotchner will regain full function of that part of his body?"

Betters made a noise and crossed his arms across his chest. "It's difficult to say. With an injury like this, it can go either way. There's always a chance that Agent Hotchner can regain full use of his genitals, or perhaps partial use. Worse case scenario is he'll never regain use again. But for the time being, he will need a catheter temporarily. He will also be on IV antibiotics as well as fluids, pain medications, and fed through a feeding tube. Dr. Fleming will probably authorize Agent Hotchner be placed in a medically induced coma for two weeks to give his body a chance to heal." He looked at the stunned group. "Are their any questions?"

"Only one, doc," Morgan stammered. "Agent Hotchner has a wife at home. What are the chances his sex life can return to normal with time?"

"That's a difficult question. Only time will be the deciding factor. But let me add that recovery could take a while. I hope your Agent Hotchner is a patient man because he's going to need a lot of it as well as an understanding and patient spouse."

Rossi's mind went back to Haley and there were no doubts in his mind. He smiled. "Don't worry on that account, doc. Agent Hotchner's wife is a very patient and understanding woman who loves her husband very much. And he also has all of us to help him as well."

Betters smiled. He sensed his patient had a good support system and knew the man would need it especially if the worse case scenario arose.

"When can we see him, doctor?" asked Morgan.

"We'll be putting him in a medically induced coma followed by attaching the catheter. I'd suggest you all wait here and a nurse will come and get you when he's been moved into the ICU. Sorry I couldn't have better news for you." The doctor turned and walked away leaving a stunned group of agents.

Rossi collapsed back onto a chair with both JJ and Prentiss seated on opposite sides of him offering whatever comfort they could. Meanwhile, Morgan leaned his back against the wall with arms crossed across his chest. And Reid, hands stuffed into the pockets of his corduroy pants, leaned his back against a wall opposite Morgan. He slowly slid down the wall until he sat on the floor. He drew up his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs. Tears slid down his cheeks and he didn't bother brushing them away. They were all thinking the same thing.

Their Unit Chief had survived a lot of horrible things during his lifetime, and could handle pretty much whatever was thrown at him. But none of them, including Rossi, had any idea how Hotch would handle the obstacles which were now being thrown in his direction. Obstacles which he may not be able to overcome this time.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Sorry this update took so long. Thankfully I do not have carpal tunnel or diabetic neuropathy. The doctor says I have tendonitis in my left hand and have to take it easy with the typing. I also had trouble with this chapter. But in-between icing my hand/wrist for thirty minutes every two hours, and 15 minute breaks every hour, I will continue to update both stories. Please bear with me.**

**Chapter 23**

For the next two hours, Rossi, Morgan and JJ sat, waiting, while Prentiss and Reid went to the hospital cafeteria for coffee. So far, nobody had come to tell them about Aaron Hotchner. All they had been told was the Unit Chief had been taken to x-ray to check for damage to the ligaments and cartilage in his damaged knee. From there he would undergo a scrotal ultrasound, and a possible CT scan or MRI on his genitalia. And they weren't handling the wait very well**.**

"How much longer is it going to be?" JJ asked nobody in particular.

"I have no idea," Morgan replied, seated beside JJ and staring into space, arms on thighs. He rubbed his palms together and shook his head. "Hotch has had to endure a lot of crap, and he's recovered every time. But for the love of God, I have no idea how he's gonna come back from this if worse comes to worse."

"It'll be tough," Rossi agreed. "In fact, it'll be the toughest thing Aaron's ever had to deal with in his life. And for once, I'm not afraid to admit I don't know if this time he can, or what he'll do if he can't." He looked at Morgan. "I mean, it'll take time to recover from the physical injuries, especially the damage to his knee, not to mention the psychological damage done by that bastard. But it's the other injuries that worry me the most."

"I can't stand this waiting any longer," JJ said as she got to her feet. "I'm going to see if I can find out anything." She turned and marched in the direction of the nurse's station at the far end of the hall. The others continued to wait, growing more impatient and worried. Before long, Prentiss and Reid returned. The brunette was carrying a tray on which sat five Styrofoam coffee cups, dozens of packets of sugar, and wooden sticks for stirring.

"Derek!" a familiar voice called out causing the entire team to turn and look. Penelope Garcia, dressed in a bright yellow dress with red and pink roses, her hair in twin ponytails tied with pink ribbons, and red framed glasses came into view. Just behind her was Haley Hotchner, her face streaked with tears. The entire team got to their feet. Garcia ran into and was at once enveloped in Morgan's strong arms. Haley clung to Rossi and buried her face against his chest, gripping his jacket tightly in her fists. Rossi wrapped his arms around her.

"How is he?" asked a tearful Garcia, pulling back and looking up at Morgan.

At that exact moment, JJ rejoined them looking frustrated. "All they would tell me is the doctors will be speaking with us soon."

Morgan took in and let out a deep breath and ran the pads of his thumbs over Garcia's cheeks. He glanced over at Haley and after wrapping an arm around Garcia's shoulders, led her away from the group where they wouldn't be overheard.

"Not good, baby girl." He then repeated what the doctors had told them. Garcia gasped and put her hand to her mouth.

"Poor Hotch. What can we do for him?" she stammered.

Morgan hugged her close to him. "I have no idea, baby girl. No idea whatsoever." He looked over her head at Haley who had pulled away from and was looking up at Rossi.

"Dave, what's happened to Aaron? All Penelope told me was that he was in the hospital. I need to know what's happened to him."

Swallowing hard, Rossi looked at the others, his eyes stating what he wanted which was understood. "Emily, see if you can find Doctors Fleming and Betters. Tell them Mrs. Hotchner is here." Prentiss sat the tray down on a wooden table, nodded, and hurried down the hall. The others moved away to give the duo privacy. Meanwhile, Rossi guided Haley to a seat, and sat beside her. He took one of her hands in both of his larger ones. "Haley, I can tell you what we've been told, or you can have the doctors explain everything. It's your decision."

"Tell me what happened to Aaron. Why is he in the hospital?"

Rossi explained Hotch's injuries. As he explained, as delicately as possible, the injuries to the genitalia, Haley burst into a fresh batch of tears.

"Oh my God!" she cried covering her mouth with a free hand. "How did this happen?" she asked when she had composed herself a bit. "Who did this to him?"

Rossi started to open his mouth and explain when he saw Emily returning. The brunette woman looked at both of them. "I spoke with someone at the nurse's station. Dr. Fleming and Dr. Betters are still with Hotch. He's been moved to a room. They've already put him in a medically induced coma, and are now inserting the catheter. Once that's done, one or both doctors will come out and speak to all of us."

Haley looked again at Rossi. "Who did this to Aaron?" she asked again. "Please tell me."

Rossi sighed. "Haley, it was Jason Armitage." He watched the woman for her reaction to the information, and didn't have long to wait. A flash of anger appeared in Haley's eyes. She recognized the name.

"Isn't he the same bastard who attacked Aaron years ago and disfigured him?"

Rossi nodded. "The same. But he won't be after Aaron again. He's dead."

Haley took several minutes to digest this new information. Finally, a smile appeared on her face. "Good. I'm glad," she uttered. "Now he can never hurt Aaron again."

Rossi was about to respond when he noticed Dr. Fleming approaching from the end of the hall. He gestured with his head causing Haley to turn. She spotted the older woman and quickly got to her feet along with Rossi. She gripped his hand tightly in hers.

"Mrs. Hotchner?"

"I'm Mrs. Hotchner. How is my husband?"

Dr. Fleming glanced at the group before focusing on the wife of her patient. "Mrs. Hotchner, now that you've arrived, wouldn't you prefer to discuss this…"

Haley's eyes narrowed. "Whatever you and Dr. Betters have to say, it can be discussed in front of my husband's team." The others gathered around Haley and Rossi.

"I understand." She glanced at Rossi again and then Haley. "How much have you been told so far?"

"Everything," Haley said. "What's happened to Aaron since then?"

Fleming let out a deep breath. "Then I won't bother repeating that information. Given the seriousness of your husband's condition, we've moved him to the ICU where he'll stay for two weeks and be monitored by both Dr. Betters and myself. Agent Hotchner was given thiopental to put him in a medically induced coma. Dr. Betters is now installing the catheter. He will be out to talk with you once he's done."

"Can I see Aaron?"

Fleming swallowed. "Once we have everything set up involving your husband, somebody will come and get you, so you can visit for a few minutes. Do you have any questions for me?"

Haley swallowed the building lump in her throat over all the information she had been overwhelmed with about her husband. She licked her lips, hesitant to ask her question and afraid of the answer she would receive. "What are the chances of my husband regaining full use of his uh…sexual organs over time?"

Dr. Fleming let out a deep breath. "Mrs. Hotchner, are you sure you want to discuss this in front of other people."

"Just answer the question, please. What are his chances?"

"I won't lie to you, Mrs. Hotchner. An x-ray of your husband's left knee showed bruising to both the ligaments and cartilage. Besides his left knee, your husband suffered serious injuries to his genitalia. There's a possibility he might never regain use of that part of his body. There's just no way to know."

A gasp from Garcia interrupted the doctor's explanation. Her mouth formed a perfect 'O' at hearing of her boss's most serious injuries.

"Fortunately, the scrotal ultrasound and the MRI of that area showed no fractures or dislocations. Dr. Betters is the best urologist on staff. After the catheter has been installed, he will speak with you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to return to your husband's room. I'm sorry I don't have better news for you."

Haley pursed her lips. This was all too much for her to absorb. Added to that the fact that her husband may never be a fully functional man again, cut through her like a knife. But if Hotch never regained full use, she would continue to love him as much as she did now. She would also never let him forget that despite the loss of the physical part, that wasn't going to change. "Thank you," she stammered.

Smiling, Fleming nodded, turned, and walked away. Haley then turned back toward Rossi and clung to him, letting herself cry again. He engulfed her body again in his strong arms and held her close as his own eyes became moist. His own mind raced as it tried to think of how he might help his best friend if the worse should happen. Rossi had experience in dealing with a lot of things, but not with this. But he would be there to help Aaron cope with what he hoped was a temporary loss.

Morgan felt Garcia lean against him and grip his shirt tightly. He hugged her close. "It's gonna be okay, baby girl," he told her.

"How can it be, Derek?" Penelope asked looking up at him with moist eyes. "I mean…suppose Hotch…that is, what if he…" she struggled to find the words and found herself at a loss.

Morgan sensed her inability. He looked down at her and offered a small smile. "Hotch will come back from this. It's just gonna take time. Perhaps a lot of time. We just have to be there for him more than ever."

Garcia considered Morgan's words. She wiped her cheeks with the pads of her fingers of one hand. "Of course we will, stud muffin." She gasped as she realized the term she had used and felt horrible. "I'm sorry. I should make sure I don't use that term anymore especially around Hotch." She let out a deep breath. "I just wish I knew how to be there for him. I mean, it's not like he suffered a gunshot injury or…or a knife wound. This is an injury to his…you know. How are we suppose to help him?"

Morgan let out a deep breath and held her close again. "Let's just wait and see, Garcia. I know it's hard, but let's try to not think the worse right now."

Reid stuffed both hands in the pockets of his corduroy pants and found himself staring at his shoes. Right now he had compassion and sympathy for his boss and friend. He thought of Hotch as more of a father figure after Gideon left. He wanted to help him any way he could, but for once his brain couldn't figure out how. But he would be there for him regardless. Reid can quote the statistics of men who recovered from the injury Hotch suffered to the genitalia, and it wasn't good nor promising. He also can quote the statistics of men who took their own lives because of said injury. He looked up and blinked back the gathering moisture in his hazel eyes. Hotch was so alpha Reid feared his boss wouldn't be able to handle this devastating loss if conditions remained as they were. But he promised himself he wouldn't let Hotch become another statistic of the group of men who took their own lives. He couldn't handle losing another person he cared about and was important to him. He just couldn't.

Emily and JJ exchanged looks. As women, they sympathized with Haley, especially JJ as she was married. But because they cared about Aaron Hotchner not only as their boss, but as their friend, their hearts went out to him. Especially if what Doctor Fleming had told them held true, and Hotch's condition became permanent. They would be there for him without a doubt. But as women, they would also be there for Haley. JJ was positive her husband Will would be there for Hotch as well. The blond glanced at the brunette as she wiped at her eyes and noticed Emily blinking back tears, and understood she was trying to compartmentalize. "It's going to be all right, Em," she said. "Hotch will get through this."

"Will he?" Prentiss asked softly so the others wouldn't overhear. "How would Will handle it if this happened to him? How would any man?"

JJ thought about it for a few seconds before she answered. "Will would not be able to handle something like this very well. But in my heart I would make sure he knew I still loved and wanted him. And that I found him desirable. And for an alpha male like Hotch, this loss, if permanent, will devastate him, Em."

Emily smiled as a tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away and looked at the blond. "Then we'll just have to make sure he knows we don't think any less of him, and that he knows we still think of him as an alpha. Every day if we need to, JJ."

JJ nodded. "For a man like Hotch, convincing him won't be easy. He'll fight us every step of the way and tell us we're wrong."

"I know," JJ replied wiping her cheek. "Haley won't have an easy time of it either."

"And we'll be there for her as well and help them both get through this."

Rossi, who had continued holding Haley Hotchner close, released her and gestured with his head as he saw Doctor Betters approaching. Haley, looking up at her husband's best friend, saw the motion and turned. She wiped her cheeks as she waited for Dr. Betters to reach them.

"Mrs. Hotchner? I'm Doctor Simon Betters." He looked at the woman and the others gathered around her. He had spoken with Doctor Fleming. "I'm the urologist assigned to your husband's case."

Haley shook her head and wiped her cheeks again. "How is my husband? When can I see him?"

Betters folded his arms across his chest and looked at the gathering in front of him. He understood he had to choose his words carefully. "First let me say that your husband has been placed in a medically induced coma and as Dr. Fleming probably told you, will stay in for two weeks. A catheter has been inserted, and a urine bag attached. Your husband has been put on strong antibiotics to prevent infection, and pain medication. He is also being given IV fluids. We have inserted a feeding tube so he can receive nourishment. In addition, he is hooked up to a lot of machines to check his vitals and to help him breathe. I understand Dr. Fleming explained the results of the scrotal ultrasound and MRI to you, so I won't repeat the results. What I'm mainly concerned about are the second degree burns to his genitalia and the direct tissue damage. I am hoping the antibiotic ointment will do the job. If it doesn't, I'll have to perform surgery to remove all the dead tissue." Betters sensed Haley's next question. "I can't tell you right now whether your husband will regain full use of his sexual organs. He may or may not. But right now he has no sensation in that area. There's also the possibility he may never regain full use, and might end up wearing a catheter for the rest of his life. Only time will tell. We should know more after the two weeks."

Haley rubbed both sides of her temples. She had a pounding headache. "What can be done if Aaron doesn't recover full use?"

Betters let out a deep breath. He didn't want to sound like a messenger of doom, but he didn't want to frighten the woman any more than she apparently already was. "Let's just cross that bridge if we get to it," he said allowing a small smile to appear. "I'd rather not speculate this early. Now, as far as seeing your husband, Dr. Fleming and myself are going to allow visitors, but only two at a time, and for only twenty minutes."

Haley looked at Rossi and the others. The older man smiled. "You go ahead, Haley. You're his wife and should be there with him. We'll visit him later this evening."

Haley smiled at Rossi then turned back to Betters. "I'm ready," she said nervously.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Haley stood in the doorway of room 301A in the Intensive Care Unit with Doctor Betters behind her. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears and she put a hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs as she stared at the man in the bed. Her Aaron was always a strong, vibrant, and energetic man, and to see him so broken and still nearly broke her heart. Betters gently placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her, and she tried to draw a bit of strength from it.

"Can…can I talk to him? Will he be…able to hear me?" she asked without a glance back at the doctor.

"We believe so, Mrs. Hotchner. And please, don't be afraid of all the machines and wires. Believe me when I say each one is necessary."

"I understand. It's just so…so…hard to…to see Aaron like this. He's always been such a strong man."

"Trust me when I say we'll do our very best for him."

"Thank you." She offered Betters a small smile. "I'll be all right. Thank you."

Betters smiled in return. "You're welcome. If you need anything, just press the buzzer near the head of the bed." He then turned and walked away as Haley slowly entered the room, and for a moment, stood at the head of the bed looking down at her husband.

"Oh, Aaron," she said, her voice shaky, lower lip quivering. "What has he done to you?"

Choking back a sob, Haley grabbed the plastic chair against the wall and moved it beside the head of the bed. After sitting down, she wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hands and studied the man lying in the bed.

Hotch lay on his back, surrounded by machines and wires. She glanced at the continuous beeping of the heart monitor showing he was alive. There were three IVs hanging from poles on both sides of the bed. One of the needles at the other end was inserted in the back of his hand. The other in the crook of his opposite elbow. The third tube was partially hidden beneath the sheet covering part of his body. She understood this was the feeding tube to supply nourishment, while the others supplied meds and needed fluids. Then there was an automatic blood pressure cuff wrapped around his upper arm which periodically inflated and deflated as it monitored his blood pressure. On the forefinger of one hand was a pulse oximeter which measured the oxygen in his blood. Finally, there was the nasal cannula, its two prongs in his nostrils to help him breathe. The tube was attached to Hotch by an elastic head band so as to make caring for the injuries to his face easier.

"I am so sorry, Aaron," Haley murmured as she reached out and placed his hand in hers mindful of the needle in the back of his hand. "Aaron, it's Haley. I'm here. Your entire team is downstairs as well. They'll visit you later. I…I'm so sorry this happened to you." With her other hand, she gently stroked his dark hair and gazed lovingly at his face. She swallowed the lump in her throat at the gauze on both of his cheeks which covered the carvings on his face. "Jack wanted to come but it's not advisable right now. But he sends his love as does Jess. Aaron, honey, I can only stay five minutes per doctor's instructions. But I want to tell you I love you so much. And no matter what happens, that will not change. I just want you to know that."

Haley sighed wearily and studied her husband's face and chest. The sheet covering him had been pulled up to mid-chest because of the knife wound. Gauze covered the cut on his chest as well as the punctures on his upper chest and chin. She turned her attention to the foot of the bed and saw the soft casts on both of his feet. She could only imagine the damage done to her husband's feet from the caning. Then she looked at where Aaron's left knee was and saw the outline of the knee splint used to stabilize the grossly swollen and injured knee. She then looked at his groin area and grimaced at what lay beneath the sheet hidden from sight. Haley tore her eyes away and re-focused on his face.

"I am so, so sorry this happened to you, Aaron. You didn't deserve this. None of it." Haley turned suddenly hearing a door open, and saw a nurse standing in the doorway. "Yes?"

"I hate to disturb you, Mrs. Hotchner, but it's been twenty minutes. Doctor Betters' orders. I'm sorry."

Haley smiled. "I understand." She got to her feet, leaned over, and kissed Hotch's forehead. "I have to leave now, Aaron. I'll try to come back later and see you. You just remember that Jack and I love you." She turned and quietly left the room, pausing only for a moment in the doorway to glance back at Hotch one last time before closing the door.

* * *

Rossi sat alone in the waiting area of the Intensive Care Unit of the hospital. He had sent the others to the cafeteria, but as he wasn't hungry, he refused to join them. Sensing Rossi needed space to deal with what had happened to Hotch, they reluctantly left, promising to bring him something back. He was leaning forward with arms on his thighs, hands clenched between his knees with head hanging, thinking about the man he loved like a son. Trying to figure out how he could help his best friend. Rossi had been around for over sixty years, and had experienced many things, and how to deal with them. But not this. He secretly cursed himself as he realized that despite his lifetime of experience, he had no idea how to help his best friend. No idea how to help Hotch should the worse happen.

Rossi found a stain on one of the floor tiles and focused all his attention on it. How could this have happened? Why did it have to be Hotch? Rossi found himself grinding his lower jaw as his anger began to grow. He was angry and becoming more angry with each passing minute. But his anger was widespread. He was angry at himself for what he considered to be his failure to protect Hotch. He was angry at his failure to save Hotch before Armitage tortured him. But most of all, he found himself angry at God for allowing something so terrible to happen to a good man.

With a sigh, Rossi leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. He looked up at the ceiling. "Hasn't Aaron suffered enough over the years?" he asked. "I mean, he's been wounded on this damn job time and time again, and he's always recovered fully each time. But this time he may not. How can you do this to him? How? What did I do that caused you to punish Aaron like this? Tell me what I can do so you'll heal him completely. He's a good man who doesn't deserve this." Letting out a deep breath, Rossi ran a hand over his salt and pepper hair. He then put both elbows on his thighs, and buried his face in his hands.

He was so absorbed in his guilt and anger, Rossi almost didn't feel a hand touch his shoulder. When he lifted his head, he looked around and his moist eyes met the face of Haley Hotchner, a weak smile on her face. Rossi gripped one of Haley's hands in both of his, and ran the pads of his thumbs over the back of it.

"How's Aaron?" he asked softly.

Haley shrugged as she placed her other hand on top of Rossi's. "He's alive and for that I'm grateful. But I really have no idea how he is. David, I'm scared. What if Aaron doesn't recover fully this time?"

Rossi swallowed the building lump in his throat and wrapped an arm around Haley's shoulders, pulling her close against him. She laid her head on his shoulder. "Hotch is tough and as stubborn as they come. He'll come back from this. He has to, Haley." He chewed his lower lip as it quivered and he blinked back the gathering moisture in his eyes.

Haley lifted her head to face the man beside her. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the older man's face. "David, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Rossi lied. He did not need Haley worrying about him. He didn't deserve her worry or concern since he was responsible for what happened to Hotch.

"I may not be a profiler like you and Aaron, David, but I can tell when somebody's lying to me. You are not fine and you know it. Now look at me. Please." Rossi slowly turned his head and faced the blond woman. "You're blaming yourself for what happened to Aaron, aren't you? I can see it in your eyes."

"Haley…"

"No. Don't try and deny it. It's all over your face."

Rossi let out a deep breath. "Haley, I _am_ responsible for what happened to Aaron. I didn't protect him like I should have. I didn't find him before this bastard hurt him. He's like my own son besides being my best friend. I'm the reason he's lying in that bed right now instead of home with you and Jack. How can you even stand to look at me right now?"

With a small smile, Haley planted a kiss on Rossi's cheek and looked him in the eyes. "David, you did save Aaron. Because of you and the team he's alive."

"That's nice of you to say, but I failed him."

"No buts. I want you to listen to me, David. You didn't cause Aaron's injuries. As Aaron always tells me, the bad guys are responsible. Armitage is responsible, not you. Give yourself a break. It's thanks to you I still have my husband and Jack still has his daddy. And I'm sure if Aaron was conscious, he'd get after you to stop blaming yourself."

Rossi ran his hand up and down Haley's arm as he kept his arm around her shoulders. "You're right. I mean, my head says you're right. But in my heart, I still blame myself. I can't help it, Haley."

"David, go visit Aaron. Do it now. I think it'll do you good to see him even if he's in a coma."

Rossi looked at a blank space on the wall in front of him and chewed his lower lip. "I don't know if I should. I mean, the team went to the cafeteria, and if I'm not here when they come back they might suspect something's wrong." It was a lame excuse, but it was the best he could come up with on short notice.

Haley patted his knee. She suspected what David Rossi was doing and she wasn't going to let him get away with it. "I'll wait here for them and tell them where you went. Now go."

With a sigh, Rossi slowly got to his feet. He paused and looked at the blond. "You're not gonna let me off the hook are you?"

Haley smiled through her tears. "I can be just as stubborn as Aaron. Now go."

Rossi smiled. "Yes, ma'am." He turned and walked away in the direction of the elevator bank and pressed the up button. When an elevator opened its doors right away, he stepped inside with the doors closing behind him. He stuffed both hands in the pockets of his jeans and let out a deep breath.

* * *

Several minutes later, Rossi stood beside the bed in the ICU, hands stuffed inside the pockets of his jeans. He gazed down at his best friend with pain-filled eyes. The beeping of the heart monitor the only sound in an otherwise silent room.

"Aaron, I am so sorry," the older man said. He slowly sank down in the chair earlier occupied by Haley. He reached out a hand and gripped Hotch's right hand mindful of the IV needle. "Aaron, I need to apologize to you. I failed you. I should have protected you and I didn't." Rossi wiped at the tears staining his cheeks. "I let you down last time, but I promise I won't let you down again. You'll be able to count on me for whatever you need, no matter how long your recovery takes. I only hope that one day you'll be able to forgive me for not finding you earlier."

Rossi reached out with his other hand and gently brushed aside several loose hairs from Hotch's forehead. He carefully studied his friend's injured and bruised face. He then licked his lips and tightened his grip on Hotch's hand. "You've always told the others that when good people are injured or killed, it's the fault of the bad guys. It's Armitage's fault you were injured, but it's my fault it happened to the extent it did. And nothing you say will change that. I screwed up by not getting to you sooner. I will never forgive myself for what happened, Aaron. Never." Rossi checked his watch, noticed he had been visiting a minute longer than the allotted time. He placed Hotch's hand back on the bed, then slowly got to his feet. He leaned over, and kissed Hotch on the forehead. After he straightened, he stroked his friend's hair once, turned, and walked out of the room.

* * *

Haley sat alone in the waiting area with her head bowed, both arms on her thighs, hands clasped between her knees. She was thinking about her husband and what she could do to help him. _Aaron, I'll remind you every day if I have to of how much I love you. I will always love you totally and unconditionally._ The sound of footsteps approaching made her look up to see Morgan, Reid, JJ, Garcia and Prentiss coming closer. She offered them a weak smile.

"How're you doing?" asked Morgan sitting down beside her. He handed her a Styrofoam cup. "I figured you might want a cup of coffee," he added with pursed lips.

"Thank you," Haley replied carefully removing the lid. She took a sip of the hot brew and let it burn her throat on the way down after she swallowed.

"Where's Rossi?" asked Reid.

"He's visiting Aaron," Haley explained. She sighed tiredly and looked at the others. "I suggested he go." She shook her head. "You guys need to talk with David. He needs your help."

"Why?" asked Garcia.

"He blames himself for what happened to Aaron. Thinks he should have protected him and found him sooner than he did."

"That's crazy," Reid said looking puzzled. "Rossi did everything he could to find Hotch before Armitage hurt him. We all did. He has no reason to feel guilty."

"I agree," Haley agreed. "But Dave doesn't agree with me. He believes he screwed up by not finding Aaron sooner. You need to be there for him as well as Aaron."

The others turned as the ding of an elevator was heard. They saw the doors hiss open, and David Rossi walk out, hands in pockets. His head was bowed and his face was grim. The older man noticed his team had returned from the cafeteria and he walked toward them.

"I need some air," was all Rossi said as he started walking past the group. But before he could leave, he was stopped by Garcia who put a hand against his chest.

"Sir, you didn't do anything wrong. You saved the boss-man's life. He's alive because of you."

Rossi smiled solemnly at the usually bubbly tech analyst. "Thanks, kitten. I'll be all right, but I really need to be alone right now." He continued past her but she grabbed his arm. Rossi looked at her again.

Garcia held out a paper bag to the older man. "I get it that you need a little time alone. I do. But sir, at least take this with you and eat it. We got you black coffee and a bagel with butter. Just the way you like it."

"Keep it. I'm not hungry, but thank you, Penelope." That said, the older man walked away leaving six very worried people watching his receding back as he continued down the hall.

Garcia turned and looked tearfully at Morgan hoping he would have an answer. She let herself be wrapped up in his strong arms. "Derek, we can't let my Italian Stallion blame himself for something that isn't true."

"I agree, baby girl, and we won't. But right now we just have to give Rossi his space. He'll come around eventually," Morgan said holding her close. He kissed the top of her head.

Prentiss and JJ sat on opposite sides of Haley. "How are you doing?" asked JJ, her blue eyes showing deep concern. "Really."

Haley shrugged. "Realistically? I have no idea how I feel. All I can think about right now is Aaron." She let out a deep breath.

Prentiss touched Haley's shoulder causing the blond to turn toward her. "We're all going to be here for both you and Hotch, so you won't have to go through this alone. We'll help in whatever way you need us to."

Haley smiled with moist eyes as she touched the hand of Prentiss which was still on her shoulder. "Thank you."

"What can we do for you right now?" JJ asked. Haley turned toward her.

"There's nothing…really. But thank you."

"There must be something," Prentiss remarked. "How about you go to the cafeteria and have some breakfast?"

"I really couldn't eat anything. Besides, I don't want to leave Aaron alone in case he needs me."

"Nothing's going to happen to Hotch. The doctors are doing everything they can for him," JJ replied. "He's going to be fine. But you need to take of yourself. It wouldn't do for you to become ill."

Before Haley could respond, Garcia appeared in front of her and grabbed one of her hands. "C'mon with me," she said pulling Haley to her feet. "We're going to the cafeteria."

"But it isn't necessary, Penelope."

"No buts," Garcia replied. "Don't make me hurt you. You need a break, and I need another cup of coffee. So let's go." She hurried down the hall pulling Haley behind her. In reality, Haley let herself be led away by the woman Aaron had always told her was a bright light in their dismal job. And she wasn't about to disappoint the woman.

The others smiled as they watched the two women walk away. Morgan chuckled as he looked at the paper bag Penelope had given him before she focused on Haley. He looked at the others.

"If anybody can take Haley's mind off of things even for a short while, it's baby girl."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

David Rossi sat on a bench outside the hospital with arms on thighs, and hands clasped between knees. And though he stared at the people passing by the hospital, he wasn't really paying attention to them. He had other things on his mind. He shook his head and let out a deep breath. So wrapped up in his own thoughts, he never noticed somebody sitting beside him on the bench, until he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He looked over to see Morgan beside him, studying him with worried eyes.

"I guessed I'd find you out here," Morgan said. He shoved the paper bag against the older man's chest, forcing Rossi to clutch it with his hands. "You'd better eat this, man," he said. "If you don't, I'll have to explain it to Garcia and I'm sure you'd rather stay on her good side."

Rossi chuckled as he opened the paper bag and looked at it's contents. He really didn't have much of an appetite, but he also knew Garcia. If he didn't eat what she had gotten for him from the cafeteria, she might try to feed him intravenously. He didn't really think she would, then again, she just might. Garcia usually delivered on her promises. With a sigh, Rossi removed the coffee cup and sat it on the bench beside him. Then he removed the buttered bagel and took a bite. Morgan watched carefully as the older man continued to eat, not wanting to disturb him. He waited until Rossi had finished eating, and grab the Styrofoam cup.

"That wasn't so bad now was it?" asked Morgan offering Rossi a smile. "Now baby girl won't have to have you force fed."

"Yeah," Rossi mumbled. "Guess I was more hungry than I thought."

Morgan's smile faded as he rested his arms on his thighs, and rubbed the palms of his hands together. He looked at the older man. "You know you're not to blame for what happened."

Rossi took a drink of the now warm coffee. "You'll forgive me if I disagree," he said with a glance at his friend.

Morgan shook his head sadly. "Rossi, what are you doing to yourself? You're beating yourself up over something over which none of us had any control. We had no idea Armitage was back and after Hotch. Not at first anyway. And once we found out, we did all we could to find the bastard and save Hotch."

"I understand what you're saying, Derek, I do. It's just…"

"Just what, man?"

Rossi let out a deep breath. "It's that my heart can't accept what my head knows is true." He drained the Styrofoam cup before stuffing it inside the paper bag. "I know my thinking isn't right, but it's how I feel, and I can't help it."

"Rossi, you gotta stop torturing yourself like this."

The older man let out a deep breath. "I know."

"What is it you always tell us? It's the bad guy's fault. That's why we profile them. Hotch would be mad as hell at you right now. You gotta cut yourself a little slack, man."

Rossi understood his friend was right. But would he be able to make his heart see that it was Armitage's fault in every way. It was _all_ his fault. Rossi looked over at Morgan.

"I'll try, Derek," Rossi said. "I promise. It just may take a little time."

Morgan grinned. "That should make baby girl happy for awhile anyway," he said. "But she won't be happy until you admit you know for a fact this wasn't your fault."

* * *

JJ, Reid and Prentiss sat in the waiting area mulling over what they had been told. After several minutes, Reid broke the silence.

"Hotch is going to be horrified when he finds out the team knows about the injury to his genitalia," he said carefully.

"Reid's right," Prentiss agreed. "An alpha male like Hotch wouldn't just be horrified. He would be humiliated and mortified.

"So how can we help him without him finding out we were informed?" asked JJ looking back and forth between the others. Prentiss looked at Reid.

The young genius swallowed the lump in his throat. "We be supportive," he said. "I mean, what else can we do?"

"What else can we do about what?" asked a female voice. The others spotted Garcia and Haley coming closer. "What are you guys talking about?"

Reid looked up at the tech analyst. "We were discussing how to best help Hotch without him knowing that we know about his uh…injuries."

Garcia looked confused. "Okay, but…why would Hotch be upset? she asked.

"Because of who Hotch is," JJ explained.

"I don't understand," Garcia said looking at the others.

"They're right, Penelope," Haley interjected. She saw the tech analyst face her for clarification. "Aaron is an alpha male, and he's going to have a difficult enough time accepting the fact that he's temporarily unable to function as a man. If it becomes permanent, he's going to have an even more difficult time accepting that. But no matter which way it goes, he's going to be humiliated and horrified that with the exception of Rossi and I, the rest of you know."

"Yeah but…" Garcia began.

"Haley's right, baby girl," Morgan replied as he and Rossi joined the group. "Hotch is gonna be horrified that we were told personal and intimate information about him, especially as a man. The sexual ramifications he's experiencing are gonna be hard enough for him. But he's also gonna be ashamed and humiliated as Haley pointed out. And I know you don't want to add to what he's gonna be feeling."

Garcia's lower lip quivered. "I would never want to upset or make my liege feel humiliated, ashamed, or horrified. I care too much about him. But I also want to help him."

"And you will, Penelope," Haley said with a small smile as she touched Garcia's arm. "But except for myself and Dave, you and the others cannot let Aaron find out the doctors told you. It'll be hard, but it's necessary. Can you do that for Aaron, Penelope?"

"No matter how hard it might be," Garcia added. "For the Boss-man, I will do whatever it takes."

"That's my baby girl," Morgan replied with a smirk before he wrapped Garcia in his arms and pulled her close to him. After a few minutes, Garcia pulled away and faced Rossi with concern.

"And how's my Italian Stallion doing?" she asked. "Has he forgiven himself yet?"

Rossi smirked and after placing both hands on Garcia's shoulders, leaned close, and planted a kiss on one cheek. He then looked into her eyes. "I'm gettin' there, kitten. It's just gonna take time. But thank you for caring."

Penelope hugged Rossi tightly and allowed herself to smile. "Always." Rossi chuckled and saw Haley smile at him, glad he was coming around from blaming himself.

"Why don't you all go and visit Aaron for a few minutes. I'll wait here with David," Haley announced. She suspected she was about to get an argument, but held up her hand to stop it before it began. "All of you need to visit Aaron if only for a few minutes. I'm sure he would love to know his other family is here for him."

Morgan looked at Hotch's wife, worried. "Are you sure? I mean, you should be with Hotch. You're his wife. Besides, in the ICU, visiting hours are no more than twenty minutes every two hours."

Haley smiled sadly. She appreciated Morgan's words, but this was the right thing to do. "Aaron needs to know his second family is here for him. And even though he's in a coma, the doctor believes he can still understand what's being said to him. Visit with him for a few minutes. I don't mind. Really."

Morgan looked at Rossi. "You want to come with us?"

"Thanks, but I've already been to see Aaron. You guys go on ahead. I can visit later or tomorrow. Besides, I have a phone call to make."

"Who are you gonna be calling?" asked Morgan as JJ, Reid, Prentiss and Garcia waited for him.

Rossi ran a hand over his thick salt and pepper hair. "Strauss. We need to let her know what's happened, and why we aren't coming home just yet."

Morgan smirked. "Lots of luck with that." He turned away and joined the others. JJ led the way down the hall and turned the corner. The small group continued down the hall where Hotch's room was located at the end of the hall.

"Remember, we need to keep it light and supportive," Morgan reminded them. "He needs to know we're here for 'im. Since Hotch can understand what we say, we don't need to say anything to upset him or cause problems with his recovery in any way. In fact, I don't think we should discuss any of his injuries, not at least while he's in a coma anyway." His last sentence was spoken with his eyes focused on his baby girl.

Garcia smiled faintly and returned his look. "No need to worry about me, my dark knight in shining armor. I will do whatever my dimpled liege needs me to do."

"What's wrong, Spence?" asked JJ who saw the long face on their resident genius. The others looked at Reid.

Reid shrugged. "I guess I'm just wondering what Hotch will be like when he recovers from his injuries. He might never again be the same Hotch that we know."

"There's bound to be a change in him after this," JJ remarked.

"But how much of a change," Emily said.

As the five agents neared their Unit Chief's room, they froze at seeing three nurses hurry into the room with 'Dr. Fleming! Third floor! Room 301A! Paging Dr. Fleming!' echoing over the loudspeaker throughout the hospital. They hurried toward the room in question, but were met by a nurse who ordered them to wait in the hallway. She told them that Dr. Fleming was on her way, and would speak with them when she was finished examining the patient. Haley and Rossi, joining the group, had listened to most of the conversation, attracted by the loudspeaker. The nurse disappeared back inside the room, and drew the curtain around the bed blocking any view of the goings on inside from the gathering in the hallway.

Watching from the hallway, Garcia put a hand over her mouth and her eyes became moist. Morgan automatically wrapped an arm around her shoulders instinctively knowing she needed not only his comfort, but his strength. JJ leaned her head against Reid's chest and the young genius enveloped the blond in his arms as he blinked back his own tears. And Prentiss, arms wrapped around herself, ran one hand up and down her other arm while her eyes glistened with building tears. This can't be happening. They can't be losing him. Not now. All they could do was wait.

Haley gripped Rossi's jacket lapels tightly in her fists and buried her face in his chest. She let her tears fall unabashed. She was so scared she was going to lose her husband. The older man wrapped his arms around her and held her close against his body letting her cry.

"Wha…what do you think happened?" sobbed Garcia.

"I have no idea, mama," Morgan whispered as his grip around her shoulders tightened.

"We can't lose him, Derek," Garcia's voice was shaky. "Not like this. Not so soon after we just got him back."

"We're not gonna lose 'im. Hotch is a fighter. You'll see. He'll hang on and come back to us."

Garcia's sobs became more intense. "But what if he doesn't? What if we lose him? What if he…"

"Baby girl, stop with the what ifs. This is Hotch we're talking about after all. He won't give up without a fight. He won't leave us or Jack and Haley. You have to believe that." Garcia didn't answer Morgan. She just continued to cry while silently praying to God to spare her boss's life. Morgan hoped and prayed he hadn't lied to his baby girl. As he had just rediscovered his faith, Morgan silently prayed that Hotch would live. As a child, he had lost faith in God. But when Jason Clark Battle shot Penelope, he rediscovered his faith thanks to Rossi. He prayed that God wouldn't let him down again. And that he would save the man he considered a friend, and the best man he had ever known.

JJ sobbed quietly against Reid's chest as his arms tightened around the woman Reid considered a sister. He tried to keep his own emotions under control at the same time and failed. JJ considered Hotch the older brother she never had. She can't lose him. Not like this. And especially when he fought so hard to survive until he was rescued. It would be like losing one of her family. She gripped Reid's sweater vest tightly in her hands and kept her face buried in his chest. JJ willed a little of her strength to Hotch. Whatever he needed she would give him willingly if she was able. Afterall, that's what you did for family.

Reid had never been a churchgoing man, nor was he a believer in God. Reid believed in facts and statistics. If a deity did exist, it would not have allowed his mother, Diana, to be stricken with schizophrenia. But nonetheless, he found himself saying a silent prayer to whom he had no idea, to let his boss and friend live. He had a young son who adored him. A wife who loved him. And a team who loved, respected, and needed him. When it came right down to it, Reid needed Hotch more since Gideon had left, and abandoned his young charge, except for a letter he had left for the agent. He wasn't able to face losing somebody else who was important to him.

Emily Prentiss leaned her back against the wall and bowed her head. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat. This can't be happening. Not to Hotch. Not now. The man had fought so hard to hang on during his kidnapping and torture by Armitage, and to survive the ride to the hospital. How can they lose him now? Normally able to compartmentalize anything, Prentiss found herself having trouble this time. Raised to believe in a higher power as a child, Emily believed this same higher power kept Hotch alive until they found him. And kept him alive when he reached the hospital while he was being treated. But would that same higher power allow Hotch to live through all of this and let him die now? _No! Hotch will not die. He won't. He'll survive this._ Emily raised her head and studied the others as she wiped at her eyes. They needed their Unit Chief and friend to live. Even if it meant he would no longer be their Unit Chief. They simply wanted him to live.

Suddenly, a nurse emerged from Hotch's room. She took in the small group and saw the worry and concern on their faces.

"How is my husband?" asked Haley noticing the curtain around Hotch's bed was still pulled. "What happened?"

"Dr. Fleming will be out in a few minutes and speak with all of you. So any questions you may have, you can ask her when she's finished examining Agent Hotchner. Please try and be patient." She turned and reentered Hotch's room where she disappeared behind the curtain leaving the others fearing the worse.

It was nearly twenty minutes later when a nurse left Hotch's room carrying the supplies needed for withdrawing blood along with three tubes filled with blood. A nurse pulled back the curtain allowing the group in the hallway to now see the patient. Two nurses were checking the machines to which Hotch was hooked up to make sure they were functioning properly. And Dr. Fleming was making notations on a chart. When she finished, she hung the chart on the foot of the bed, and left the room to be met with a barrage of questions. She held up her hands silently asking for quiet before she spoke.

"First, let me advise you that Aaron will not be allowed any more visitors today."

"Why?" asked Haley wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. "What's happened to my husband?"

"Mrs. Hotchner, when Aaron was examined, one of the meds he was put on was to elevate his potassium levels which regulate the body's natural electrical impulses. Now his heart is fine. But the electrical charges he received, threw his body's natural electrical impulses which control the muscles that create the heart's pumping motion, out of whack so to speak. And when these natural impulses are interrupted, it causes a slower than normal heart rate or what we refer to as bradycardia. Bradycardia caused your husband's heart monitor to emit an alarm. We need to elevate his potassium levels."

Morgan's eyes narrowed as a look of anger appeared. "Why didn't you catch this before?!" he snarled. "Didn't you do blood tests?" He looked ready to hit somebody.

"Of course we did. This is why we put Aaron on the proper meds to elevate his potassium levels. But we need to increase the dosage. So we've increased his potassium meds which we feel will do the job, and we've taken more blood for testing which should confirm our diagnosis. I've also scheduled Aaron for an EEG to measure the impulses in his brain to insure the proper brain activity. But we think it's better if Aaron has no more visitors until tomorrow. I'm sorry."

"So he's alright?" asked JJ.

"He should be fine."

"_Should be?"_ hissed Morgan. "What do you mean by _should be_? Don't you know?"

"Morgan, let it go," Rossi advised. "These things happen. It's nobody's fault. They caught it in time, and Hotch is all right."

Morgan, turning away, ran a hand over his bald head. Everybody could tell he was still upset by the entire episode. But he kept his mouth closed because for one, he understood Rossi was right. And two, Haley was present and he didn't want to upset her anymore than she already was. But he was still angry at the latest misfortune to affect his friend.

Rossi, always a man in control, looked at Doctor Fleming. "Thank you, doctor. Will it be all right to visit Agent Hotchner tomorrow?"

"That'll be fine," Fleming replied.

"Thank you again, doctor."

"You're welcome." Fleming looked at Haley and smiled sincerely. She then turned around and walked away. Haley let out a deep breath and faced the others.

"So what happens now?" Prentiss asked.

"We head back to the hotel, have dinner, and try and get a little sleep," Rossi explained. "I left a call back message for Strauss explaining what happened." He studied Haley. "Do you have a place to sleep tonight?"

Haley shook her head. "Not really. I mean, I packed a suitcase, but Penelope and I came straight from the airport here. Neither of us had a chance to register at a hotel."

The agents exchanged looks. When they had arrived several days ago, Reid shared with Morgan, JJ with Prentiss, and Rossi with Hotch. Of course Rossi's room now had an empty bed with Hotch being in the hospital. And being a gentleman, he would never ask Garcia, and especially not Haley, to take the empty bed in his room. He reached inside his jacket and removed his cell phone.

"Let me see if the hotel has a free room. I'll pay out my own pocket if need be." With the phone pressed to his ear, he turned and walked a short distance from the others. After about twenty minutes, he rejoined the others and tucked his phone away. There was a smile on his face. "Everybody, the hotel had a cancellation and both Haley and Garcia have a room for the next three days. Only thing is it has one bed. But if you still want it, ladies, it's yours."

Garcia squealed with joy and threw her arms around the older man's neck. She hugged Rossi so tightly she cut off his breathing. "Garcia, I can't breathe," he gasped.

"Oh, I'm sorry my Italian love god," Penelope released Rossi. She then looked at Haley. "I hope you don't mind sharing a room with me? I promise I don't hog the covers."

Haley found her self smiling at the exuberance of the technical analyst. "Not at all. In fact, I can think of nobody I'd rather share a room with."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Dave Rossi was glad he was alone in his hotel room because of the colorful swear words leaving his mouth as a hand appeared from beneath his covers. He hadn't been asleep for long when his cell phone, sitting on the charger on the night table, rang. A glance at the clock showed it was approaching 2a.m. He grabbed the cell from its charger, and leaning up on one elbow, pressed the phone to his ear. "Rossi."

"David, it's Erin Strauss. I'm sorry to be calling you so late, but I just got your message."

Rossi sat up in bed and ran a hand over his messy, salt and pepper hair. "Don't worry about it, Erin," he said with a yawn. "I only need an hour's sleep anyway."

"Again I apologize. Has there been any change in Aaron's condition since your earlier message?"

"He's still the same, so I suppose that can be considered good news."

"And how is his wife doing? Is there anything she needs or wants?"

"Except for wanting her husband to fully recover, nothing that I can think of. Erin, while I have you on the phone, I need to ask you a favor."

"Which is?"

"I'd like downtime for the team for the next two weeks. Aaron's in a medically induced coma, and we'd like to be here for him and Haley." There was silence on the other end. "Erin? You still there?"

"I'm here. I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do. Call me tomorrow after you speak with the doctors and get an update on Aaron's condition."

"I will." He sensed there was something else his Section Chief wanted to say and he gave her a few seconds before he encouraged her. "Is there something else, Erin?"

"Only that I'm glad the bastard is dead. I normally don't like to say things like that about someone. But I remember what Aaron went through ten years ago because of that man."

Rossi couldn't be sure, but for a moment he thought he sensed a tremor in Strauss's voice. Was she becoming emotional?

"Thank God he's no longer alive, and hopefully Aaron can recover fully this time as well. Please pass along my wishes for a speedy recovery to him, and tell his wife if there's anything she or Aaron need, to not hesitate to ask. The bureau takes care of it's own."

A sad smile formed on Rossi's face despite how tired he was. "Why Erin, are those tears in your voice for Aaron?"

"Don't be a bastard, David," Strauss replied with a smirk she was aware he couldn't see. "I'll be expecting your call later. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Rossi replied. He put the phone back on the charger and slid back under the covers. It only took a few minutes before darkness claimed him again.

* * *

Penelope Garcia wasn't quite sure what it was which woke her until she opened her eyes just a crack. At first she didn't recognize where she was, but then she remembered she was in a hotel room. It wasn't until she heard whimpering beside her, that she realized she wasn't alone in bed. Careful not to wake her companion, Penelope looked over to see Haley Hotchner laying beside her. She sounded like she was crying. Concerned, Penelope reached out a hand, and gently touched the woman's shoulder. Startled, Haley turned her head and looked at the other woman. Even in the dim light of the moon shining through the curtains, Penelope could see the remnants of tears on Haley's cheeks.

"Hey." Garcia sat up in the bed. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Haley sat up and quickly wiped her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Penelope. I didn't mean to wake you. Please go back to sleep."

Garcia reached over on her side of the bed, turned on the night lamp, and looked at her companion. "Oh no you don't, missy. You don't get off that easily. If you ask my chocolate stud muffin, he will tell you nobody escapes the third degree by Penelope Garcia. Now spill. What's got Mrs. Boss man unable to sleep at this hour?"

Haley arched her eyebrows. "Chocolate stud muffin?"

"That's my pet name for Derek Morgan. I have pet names for all my babies. And don't change the subject. Now what's wrong?"

Haley let out a deep breath, and looked at her hands as they sat in her lap. She picked at her nails. "I had a bad dream about Aaron."

"Tell me."

"I…I dreamt that the team found Aaron, and he was rushed to the hospital, but he died while in a coma. He just never woke up again. I never got the chance to tell him how much I love him." Her face contorted and fresh tears fell. Garcia put an arm around the other woman's shoulders and pulled her close. Haley rested her head on Garcia's shoulder as she leaned into the embrace.

"I want you to listen very carefully to me, okay? Hotch is a strong man, a fighter. He will not give up ever. Besides, didn't the doctors say he should recover? You have to believe in that."

"But what if he doesn't?" Haley sniffled.

"There are no buts here. My liege will fight with everything he has in him. You need to believe that."

Haley wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hand. "I…I'll try, Penelope."

Garcia shook her head. "Don't try, sweetie. Do. Hotch is one of the best profilers next to my chocolate love God. If he senses you believe he won't make it, then he'll believe it too. And that would not be a good thing. So I want you to repeat after me. Aaron will make it."

Haley offered a sad smile. "Penelope…"

"Say. It."

Haley sighed. "Aaron will make it."

"Good. Aaron is a fighter. He will make it. Say it."

"Aaron is a fighter. He will make it."

Garcia smiled. "Good. You keep saying that. No more negative vibes. I know you're scared for him. We all are. But Hotch would never give up on any of us if the situation was reversed. So, we cannot give up on him. And if I find out you are having or thinking negative vibes again, I will smack you. Understand?"

Haley smiled and wiped her cheeks again. "Understood." She let out a deep breath. "Penelope, how did you become so smart?"

Penelope shrugged her shoulders. "After hanging around for years with profilers, something was bound to rub off, I guess."

"Thank you. I mean it."

"And you're welcome. Now please try and get a few hours sleep at least. And remember, only happy thoughts and positive vibes."

"On one condition." Haley said. Penelope stared at her, puzzled. "And that is you call me Haley. Mrs. Boss man sounds so formal."

Garcia chuckled. "I can do that, Mrs. Boss…Haley. Now please try and sleep. It's late and you need your rest."

Haley slid down in bed on her back. "Goodnight, Penelope. And thank you again."

Garcia turned off the lamp and slid down in bed herself. "You're welcome again. Goodnight, Haley. Sleep tight."

* * *

The following morning found the entire team and Haley in the hotel coffee shop enjoying breakfast before heading to the hospital. Haley sat between Garcia and Rossi.

"So, how did you ladies sleep?" asked Rossi eying Penelope with a knowing grin.

"Like a log, my Italian love God," Garcia replied in-between bites of her cinnamon raisin bagel loaded with crème cheese and strawberry jam.

"I had a bad dream but Penelope talked me through it," Haley admitted taking a sip of her coffee with downcast eyes. She didn't want to discuss the nightmare again, and hoped Rossi would not pursue it. Fortunately, he didn't. He just nodded and took a drink of coffee.

"Good," was all he said patting the back of her hand. He looked at Penelope with a silent 'thank you.'

Morgan looked at the older man. "So, have you talked to Strauss yet?" he asked.

"Yeah, I did," Rossi replied. He then told everybody what the two had discussed leaving out how emotional the Section Chief became when speaking about Aaron. He concluded by passing on her well wishes to Haley for Aaron's speedy and complete recovery. "She doesn't know the full extent of Aaron's injuries," he added seeing Haley's worried face. "I led her to believe the burns to his genital area were to his chest area instead so if surgery is needed, she'll think it's to his chest. She won't question it." After that, everybody quickly finished their breakfast wanting to head for the hospital and check on their boss and friend.

Nearly two hours later, everybody walked into the hospital and took the elevator to the third floor and ICU. They were met at the nurses' station by Doctor Fleming. The woman smiled at the group.

"How is my husband this morning?" Haley asked.

"Aaron had a restful night," Fleming began. "I put a rush on the testing of the blood we drew yesterday, and it confirmed what I told you. His low potassium levels caused his bradycardia. So we increased the medication. This morning showed a slight elevation in his potassium levels."

"So the increase in the dosage is working?" asked JJ.

"Yes. We are going to continue the dosage as is. We did an EEG after all of you left yesterday as well, and it showed Aaron's brain activity is normal. This morning we've changed his dressings, and taken care of both the catheter and urine bag. Doctor Betters is with him now. But if you'd like to wait, he will update you as soon as he finishes his examination."

"Thank you, doctor," Haley said with a faint smile, relief showing on her face as with the others. Fleming smiled in return and walked away to make her rounds. After she left, Rossi turned to the others.

"Let's wait outside Aaron's room for Doctor Betters to finish his exam," he said.

The group followed him to Hotchner's room and sat in the uncomfortable hard plastic chairs to wait. The curtain was drawn in their friend's room, with two nurses and Doctor Betters moving around behind the curtain. But they weren't too worried this time as the report from Doctor Fleming had left them with a good feeling.

It was nearly an hour later before the drawn curtain was pulled back, and the two nurses left the room followed by Doctor Betters. The man's face was expressionless as his eyes fell on the seven people waiting. They got to their feet and approached the doctor. Rossi could tell something wasn't right.

"What's wrong, doctor?" Rossi asked. "Has something happened to Aaron?"

"Yes and no," Betters replied.

Rossi noticed Morgan's face change after the doctor's comment, and sensed he was about to say something in anger. But one look told Morgan this was not the time.

"What does that mean?" Rossi asked, holding Morgan's eyes. "Is Hotch all right or not?"

Betters wrapped his arms around himself and looked at the older man. "Let me explain. The injuries to Agent Hotchner's genitalia are not healing as I hoped." He paused when Haley put a hand over her mouth, and her eyes glistened. Garcia gasped and JJ grabbed her hand and held it tightly. The others remained silent. "Keep in mind it's only the second day. But there's not even the slightest improvement."

"So what happens now?" asked Haley fighting to regain control of her emotions.

"First let me explain this is by no means life threatening. All it means is that his injury shows no sign of improvement. I'm going to give it two more days. If there's no change, I will have to do a surgical debridement to remove the dead tissue from his genitals."

Haley's head was spinning as she tried to process all this new information she was being given. "What does that involve exactly?" she asked.

Before Betters opened his mouth to respond, Reid beat him to it. "Debridement is a procedure performed under general anesthesia to remove necrotic tissue to promote healing, and the body's ability to fight infection."

Betters closed his mouth and gaped at Reid in awe for one so young to explain the procedure so exactly. "Doctor Reid is it?" he asked. The young agent nodded and lowered his eyes, embarrassed. "Doctor Reid is correct in describing the procedure. With burns, there's always the chance bacteria can get in and cause inflammation, and put a strain on the body's ability to fight the infection. The debridement is done as a last resort when the method we are now using doesn't work and promote healing. But the procedure itself is not dangerous by any means. Right now we've changed his dressing and applied more ointment to his injured areas. I'll be stopping by later to check on him." The doctor studied the group, and noticed the deflated look on their faces. It was clear they all cared about his patient very much, and wanted him to recover fully; so did he. But it was out of his hands. "Are there any more questions?"

"Can we visit my husband?" Haley asked in a husky voice.

Betters smiled. "Of course." He turned and walked away leaving the group to themselves.

Rossi rubbed the back of his neck. He let out a deep breath and faced the others. "Haley, you should be there with Aaron. You're his wife. Besides, I have to phone Strauss and give her an update."

"Thank you," Haley smiled at Rossi. "But the others haven't had a chance to visit Aaron yet. Somebody can come with me and visit."

The team looked among themselves. Morgan sighed. "JJ, go with Haley."

JJ seemed hesitant about Morgan's offer. "Derek…"

Prentiss touched her arm gently. "Morgan's right, JJ. You should go with Haley. You were injured trying to keep Hotch from being taken by Armitage. You know you won't be able to breathe again until you see Hotch for yourself."

JJ let out a deep breath and with a glance at Haley, nodded, and the two women walked inside the agent's room. The minute she saw all the machines and wires Hotch was hooked up to, she froze in the doorway, unable to move. She was use to her boss being an active man, so full of energy and life. To see him now so still and silent was too much to handle. She stood rooted in place as Haley approached the head of the bed, and sat in the chair she earlier had used. Haley gripped her husband's hand closest to her and with her other hand, stroked his dark hair lovingly.

"Aaron, it's Haley. I just spoke with both of your doctors. Both of them say you're doing so well. Jack sends his love. I spoke with him last night, and he says to tell you he's going to make you a big get well card with plenty of sparkles on it." She glanced at JJ still standing in the doorway before turning back to Hotch. "Guess what, my love. JJ came with me. She wants to see you very much." She turned to JJ again and gestured with her head for the woman to come closer.

JJ swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly approached the bed. The guilt she still felt over Hotch being taken still manifested itself in her. She couldn't take her eyes off how pale Hotch's skin looked compared to his dark hair. He resembled a ghost. Chewing her lower lip, the blond picked up a chair on the opposite side of the bed, and moved it to the head of the bed. After sitting down, she reached out and gripped Hotch's fingers in one hand mindful of the IVs.

"Hotch, it's JJ. I'm glad you're getting better." She licked her lips. "The rest of the team is here with me. They'll be coming to visit you later. They wanted to come and see you with me, but the doctor says you need your rest, but he's like Strauss and being a hard ass," she chuckled. "Henry sends his love, and Will sends his best. Henry is also making you a get well card." She blinked away her tears. "Henry says he can't wait for his Uncle Aaron to visit him again and to bring Jack. He says next to his daddy, Uncle Aaron is really cool. I bet you never thought of yourself as being a really cool guy, did you, Hotch? I bet you didn't." She chuckled again.

"Did you hear that, sweetheart?" asked Haley, biting her lower lip. "When you're released, we need to take Jack for a play date with Henry LaMontagne. Both Jack and Henry will love it." While continuing to stroke her husband's hair, she leaned over and kissed her husband's lips gently. "Also, we're going to plan a vacation, just the two of us. Jack can stay with JJ and Will if she doesn't mind?" Haley looked at JJ.

"I don't mind at all, Hotch. Henry will be thrilled," JJ added with as much of a smile as she could muster considering her guilt. "And you have no excuse anyway. You probably have more vacation time than the rest of the team put together. So you just concentrate on getting better."

* * *

Rossi stood in the waiting area of the ICU with his cell phone pressed to his ear, listening to the ringing on the other end. He had wanted to be alone when he phoned Strauss with his update. He heard a click on the other end.

"Erin Strauss."

"Erin, it's Dave Rossi. You asked me to call you after I spoke with Hotch's doctors today."

"How is he?"

Rossi repeated everything he had been told again omitting the injury to the genitalia. He explained about the possible debridement surgery in two days to remove the dead tissue from Hotch's chest area if there was no improvement. He knew Strauss wouldn't question it, and would accept what he said as fact. _Strauss must never find out about that one injury. It's enough that the team knows. _

"Erin, what about the team getting downtime?" Strauss sighed over the phone, and Rossi got the feeling the news wasn't good.

"I tried, David. But the director wants your team back here by the end of the week. That means you only have three more days. I wasn't able to get him to budge despite his concern about Aaron."

"He can't be serious," Rossi complained.

"I'm sorry, David. He said if you defy his orders there will be consequences."

"I have a message for the director I would like you to pass on to him for me. Tell him the rest of team will return to Quantico within seventy-two hours, but I am staying here until Aaron is at least out of the hospital. Morgan can take over as Acting Unit Chief in my absence. But I am not leaving Haley alone right now. She's gonna need somebody to help her with Aaron. I cannot and will not leave her alone to handle this situation. And if the director wants my badge, he can have it. Make sure you tell him that for me, Erin."

"Can I get you to reconsider what you're doing, David?" Strauss already knew the answer to her question, but she asked anyway.

"What do you think?" Rossi smirked knowing Strauss already knew what his answer would be.

"I'll pass along your message to the director," said Strauss. "I just hope you know what you're doing. But for what it's worth, David, I didn't expect you to respond any other way when it comes to Aaron."

"I know. I have to go. But I'll keep you informed as much as I can."


End file.
